Free
by gusenitsa
Summary: - - - - - "If you want to make sure of keeping your heart intact you must give it to no one...It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable." C.S.Lewis. - - - - - He doesn't entirely understand the fear. There is no reason to suspect trouble, only a voice in his head and a memory of purple eyes.
1. Chapter 1

_**AN 11-13-2013: If you have read this story before you will notice the last chapter (now lucky number 13) is not much different than the pre update chapter 12. That's because the length of the story is about 40% longer due to added scenes almost every other chapter rather than another chapter at the end! I've really enjoyed flushing out these scenes and characters. A special thank you to one of my reviewers LadyKnightMiakoda, as something you said in your review provided an idea for one of those details. **_

_**Hope you enjoy the new and improved story.**_

* * *

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, ... It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love _is_ to be vulnerable." ~C.S. Lewis~

* * *

The world spins faster and people slow down around him. Or at least, that is what he sees as he runs. It sounds like rushing wind, voices blurring together and smells like fresh air. It feels only like fear.

_"The waterfront, Run." _The voice had not come from a member of his court but from somewhere in the vicinity of the door. No one was there, and he shouldn't have been able to hear so clearly from across the room anyway. It appeared no one else had.

_"Go, now." _He looks back towards the door, noticing for the first time the purple eyes that bored into his before disappearing from the room._ Beka...This must have something to do with Beka if __Pounce is here, _Rosto thinks. Pounce was no normal feline, but taking orders from a creature not 10 inches tall is not something the Rogue is accustomed to. He knew he would, but he didn't have to be happy about it.

He couldn't run, not at first. The Rogue is a powerful man, but one who lives on the edge of a knife. He rules the court and the city with an authority that falls short of only the King himself; but his role is significantly less stable than a traditional monarchy. He is an actor in a role where faltering could be fatal. He could never forget that everyone is watching, and someone is waiting. So he laughed. She isn't funny, but a pretty doxie doesn't really have to be. That is how the game works and he is, after all, an exceptional player.

Without allowing the lighthearted tone to drop, he tells Aniki to keep an eye on things and to send Kora to a waterfront meeting place before walking briskly out of the dove. No excuses necessary, of course, power does have its advantages. As he walks he gradually slips into the shadows. Between one shadow and the next he is released from his performance and breaks into a sprint; ever closer to the waterfront. He fights to enjoy the feeling of the sprint, to replace the nervous clenching of his stomach with the burning in his legs. He doesn't entirely understand the fear. There is no reason to suspect trouble, only a voice in his head and a memory of purple eyes.

* * *

Watch ended over an hour ago, but Beka had yet to return home. Normally after watch she wished only to sleep, but today she was full of energy. In a city where rowdy taverns often exploded into dangerous brawls with very little warning, she was rarely bored. But today watch was exceptionally dull. It left her with too much energy and an odd feeling of foreboding.

She told herself she was just taking a walk, but she knew it wasn't true. She clasped her baton too tightly and watched the crowd too closely. Finally, a man caught her eye and she smiled. There was nothing particularly suspicious about him, but she had seen him before; frequently throughout her watch, always just far enough away that she couldn't get a good look at him. Rosto had sent one of his birdies to 'keep an eye on her' again. _I can take care of myself without some pretty-boy Rogue always watching over my shoulder, s_he fumed silently. But she was secretly pleased at the opportunity to show up the meddling Rogue.

It was her turn to follow; leaving a large enough distance that she hoped she would not be noticed. She weaved after the rusher until he disappeared into a large warehouse. Her playful mood evaporated in an instant. _One of Rosto's birdies would have no reason to hide out here. _Her instincts screamed at her that it was a trap. She wasn't on watch. She had no partner to call. If she came back later he would certainly be gone - she might never know if he had really been following her. If he wasn't one of Rosto's than this had to be better than getting caught off guard at some unknown future date. Besides, she would never live it down if he actually was one of Rosto's, and she ran away. She tried to ignore Goodwin's scowling face in her head, telling her to stop being a fool. She grasped her baton tightly and closed her eyes for a few moments to acclimate them to the dark that might lie on the other side of the door before bursting through.

The man she had been following was leaning easily against a wall waiting for her. She heard a thud from behind her that sounded suspiciously like something being pushed against the other side of the door. She didn't know for sure, she would not turn her back on a potential enemy to check. Still, she was a bit insulted that they thought she would run.

"You are the Terrier."

She wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement. "You're not from around here?" she retorted.

"No," he smiled slightly, "But I have … family of sorts, in this city." A shock of blond hair was visible from under his dark hat and now that she could see his face, he was unusually pale. Rosto would be furious, vain cove; she knew he liked having the only 'sun-colored' hair around. She could see the outline of at least four blades from the front alone. If this man was anything like the one he resembled, there were probably more for her to worry about. There was a venom, a laughing irony in his words. Whoever this newcomer was, she was convinced that he was no friend of the Rogue. That did not necessarily make him her enemy, of course, but the situation was suspicious.

"Why have you been following me?"

"You have a propensity for getting in the way, so I'm afraid you are more useful to me dead." He responded.

Oddly, the man did not seem to be mocking her. His voice was cold, calm and a bit unnerving. In that moment she thought perhaps she understood the chill rats described after being on the receiving end of her icy glares. He was sizing her up with his eyes as he spoke with a taunting smile. "Don't you recognize me?"

_Great, now he wants to play games, "_Apparently you don't make much of an impression."

"I'm Rosto, my dear..."

Beka just glared. _If this was some relation that Rosto had never mentioned she would have Rosto's head. _

_"..._at least that's what they will say when you turn up dead. Complete with witnesses to confirm that Rosto has been planning this for 24 hours and you were last seen here with a blond man... the details are irrelevant. Dogs are brutal when someone takes one of their own, the suspicion will be sufficient."

_"_Even if you could," Beka scoffed, "What makes you think that they wouldn't find you. And if the dogs didn't the rats would. Me I'd take my chances with the Dogs." She was stalling, she had no desire to hash out the details of the plan with him, but he was stalling too. Why? For her it was habit, to give the Dogs time to find her. They didn't know she was here, of course, so that was not the best plan she had ever come up with. Plan B: find cover, there would soon be more than words flying.

He laughed. "It doesn't matter, how long do you think he will survive with the cage dogs? Three hours, four? Be generous, give him most of the night...either way there won't be a trial...Do you think it's been long enough, Beka. Probably, can't have it looking like an ambush. It's not his style-"

_Oh._ In a flurry of sudden movement knives were flying and Beka dove behind the crate she had spotted in her peripheral vision. As she landed, she grabbed one of the fallen knives, launching it back in the direction it came from, watching in satisfaction as it sailed squarely into his throwing arm. Her primary weapon was short-range, now his was too.

The man cried out in surprise, pain and anger, pulling the blade from his arm. It slipped from his hand and she took her opportunity. Throwing herself forward she sent her baton flying towards his already bleeding arm. The impact sent him backward yelling in a foreign tongue.

He recovered quickly, sending another of his throwing knives in her direction as she pressed forward. _Of course he throws just as well with the other arm, _Beka thought in frustration. He was powerful, even injured. She had to stay close, she had no chance at a distance. Up close she was a force to be reckoned with, at a distance she might as well be a target. He blocked her next series of blows with the handle of a strong blade and the parries nearly threw off her balance more than once. She was nervous now; he was better armed and stronger, but maybe she was quicker? Maybe that would be enough? His blade was beautiful, sparkling with a glamor intended to distract. She found her eyes drawn by the way the light reflected off it. She watched intently, blocking his attacks and utilizing the blunt force of the baton to throw him off. He was so fast, she couldn't get ahead of him, couldn't catch him off guard. And then she saw her opening.

A crushing blow to her solar plexus stalled her breathing. She had not noticed him drawing her into creating an opening herself. She thought suddenly of how disappointed Goodwin would be that she had allowed such an obvious target. She couldn't breathe, could barely see, and pain radiated through her. She stumbled backwards in an attempt to give herself time to recover. It was too late. With a furious impact the man's blade tore through her abdomen in a puncture wound that threw her backwards, blade still intact. As the man approached her he revealed another of the knives she had seen beneath his clothes.

* * *

AN:Welcome to my experiment in writing fiction, enjoy your stay and feel free to contact the front desk with any compliments or concerns regarding your accommodations. Apparently it is traditional to include a statement reminding readers that I am aware that I am not creative enough to generate unique characters and have instead elected to borrow them from another. Consider yourselves reminded and feel free to remember this for all future chapters!


	2. Chapter 2

This was the moment, Beka realized, the one Ahuda told them to expect one day. When a dog could truly decide if they were going to live or going to die. She hadn't truly understood what that meant until this moment, always assuming it was a reference to the Black God's Choice. It wasn't. The pain was incredible, like nothing she had ever experienced. She had been injured before, sometimes badly, but this was so much worse. The blade was still there and any movement, however slight, sent fresh daggers of fire through her. It would be so easy, so beautifully easy, to just let the blackness come. But she couldn't rest, he was still coming; and Beka did not have the slightest doubt that unconsciousness would mean her death. Her first instinct was to remove the blade from her own body and give it right back to him. She squashed the impulse quickly, knowing such a course would give her a weapon at the expense of her own life. Feeling around her, she found another of the fallen throwing knives. With a surge of desperation she threw it towards her assailant. Pain exploded through her at the movement and she fell backwards. She heard the impact, but could not see where it had landed. A growing rushing in her ears made it increasingly difficult for her to hear if he was still approaching. _Get up, get up, get up ... _Gritting her teeth against the pain she pulled herself upwards slightly. Her aim was good and her attacker stumbled away rather than trying to finish what he had started. She fell backwards again, against the box that had provided her original protection.

Her mind was surprisingly clear. Adrenaline gave her the time to evaluate her injuries before she lost the ability to think at all. She thought of her training. Most of their training was, well... to avoid being stabbed in the first place. Avoid dark warehouses. Always have a partner who knows where you are. Don't be predictable. Don't lose. Wincing, she looked down at her injury evaluating it as if it belonged to someone else. It's placement made it unlikely that it had hit a major organ, so blood loss and shock were her major concerns. But what could she do about it? She couldn't go anywhere. Even if she could get up that would shift the blade and she might just make it outside in time for someone to watch her bleed to death. It was irrelevant; the door behind her was blocked, the one her attacker had taken was too far away. She wouldn't make it out of this building in her current state.

She needed to slow the bleeding. If she could stay awake, maybe she could slow her breathing and her heart rate. She began to count, gradually increasing the seconds between each breath. It hurt to breathe anyway. That would give her more time. _T__ime for what, _she wonders. _1...2...3 _No one was around; and worse no one had any reason to wonder where she was. As blackness began to press into her vision she called out for the only one that might be able to find her. "Pounce!" What good was a constellation if he couldn't find her when she did something stupid? _How long would it take a constellation to find a wayward dog?_ _Stay still, stay awake_. _1...2...3...4..._

* * *

Kora tried to be angry but she couldn't honestly say she minded. It was better than what she was supposed to be doing which was cleaning a new batch of clothing. It made a living, but it was still tedious. Still, it wasn't like Rosto to stand her up. It also wasn't like him to send her here with no indication of why. _Rogues prerogative, but I think that the next time he wakes me up there may be a little extra fuel involved. __Sarden Rogue probably got distracted flirting with some pretty doxie and forgot he sent me here. _

_Five more minutes. Rogue or not that is all he gets before I'm gone. _The minutes passed by slowly and still no sign of Rosto. She turned back towards the Dove, mentally preparing the tongue lashing she was going to unleash on Rosto later. And that was when she noticed the blood on the stone beneath her feet. She probably would have ignored it, if not for the tiny part of her that remembered; It really wasn't like Rosto to stand her up. She paused. People got hurt sometimes, kids hit each other with sticks and fell off of walls. It really wasn't her business...

* * *

Rosto was patrolling the various taverns known for the worst brawls. No injuries, no Dogs hovering and no Beka. The relief was intoxicating. He began to enjoy the run, now that the knot in his stomach had loosened, though it did occur to him that this suggested the "you've-lost-it" hypothesis of the voice that had sent him here. _The sarden feline probably wanted someone to buy him fish_, Rosto thought grumpily. As he ran he allowed his senses to roam. The familiar surroundings were comforting. The sound of the wind, the smell of freshly baked pastries, dogs barking, people yelling. Still, something was out-of-place. Rosto knew this city better than his own reflection, and some might say he knew that a bit too well. A metallic taste had grounded him to the spot and he glanced down an alley already knowing what he would see. Blood, clearly left recently. The trail was slightly darker to the south, slightly older. He could only start in one direction, and if anyone was left behind they were likely gone or dead. He started to follow the trail North following the person who had walked away.

_No, the other way. _The voice corrected him. _I'm trying to fetch a healer. You'd think people would be more receptive to 'God's touched creatures...'_

_I am definitely crazy_... _Why is he sending me backwards, _Rosto wonders, trying to ignore the painfully obvious conclusion. It pressed itself into his mind anyway. _Beka... she hadn't been the one to walk away this time._

He soon reached the door to a large warehouse. The smell of blood was stronger here and a small pool had gathered next to the door. He loosened the knives at his wrist. One does not stay in his position for very long without expecting an ambush in situations such as this. His mind rebelled; _I am walking into a deserted building on the advice of a voice in my head._ _What a convenient way to ambush a rival. _He remembered purple eyes... He hesitated only a moment longer; he couldn't take the risk.

There was a piece of heavy wood blocking the door to the warehouse, and it too was marked with blood. _They blocked it back up behind them._ That was good, there was no reason to lock in a dead Dog. Pushing it aside he entered and froze. He could see Beka on the ground leaning against a crate, but he was incapable of moving toward her. He wondered briefly if he was in a night terror. Like in a dream, he had lost all coordination. _It must be a night terror._

_It isn't a night terror._ He recognized the symptoms of shock and fought against them as he charged forward. Reaching down towards Beka, he hesitated, suddenly afraid to know the answer to the unspoken question. She was so still, so white..._Is she already ...?_ He almost couldn't bring himself to touch her. At this moment - everything could still be fine. She could open her eyes, get better, go back to blushing and punching him in the face... If he touched her and she was cold, then everything would change.

He had to know.

He reached forward and touched her neck searching for a pulse. She was warm, breathing, alive.

"Cooper?... can you hear me?" he began to cut strips of cloth from his tunic.

"Pounce?"

"No, Beka, it's Rosto." She was still conscious , but disoriented and there was a lot of blood. He began to wrap her wound, working around the blade as gently as possible. He needed to slow the bleeding but could not risk jarring the knife further; not without a healer here. He took a calming breath; he was going to hurt her if he couldn't prevent his hands from shaking.

"Rosto..." her voice lingered on his name for a moment, as if she couldn't quire remember who he was, or was trying to remember something. Finally she continued; "I stayed very still."

"I know, Beka, you did well." His voice was calm and soothing. It was not like Rosto to sound so gentle and she found it unnerving. _Curse it, _Beka thought, _he's got his dying-mot voice on. I've heard that voice before...I've used that voice before._

She had to tell him what she knew, and she'd better do it quickly. Her thoughts were clouded though, and she couldn't remember exactly what she was supposed to tell him. Only that it was important. "I was stupid, Rosto," Until she said his name he thought that Beka was talking to herself. "It was a trap, but I had to know...he was following me, the man...he looked like you."

For once he was being neither proud nor vain as he reflected, _no one in this area looks like me_. _Is she delirious?_ If shock had already set in she was in even more trouble than he realized.

He finished tying the makeshift bandages. "God's above, Beka..." he muttered under his breath, watching in dismay as the tunic gradually changed color. She needed help. He needed help.

_Do I leave her alone, get help? Do I stop the bleeding first... can I stop the bleeding first?_ Rosto was conflicted. He didn't want to leave her here but was quite aware that his aid was of little use to her at the moment. _The voice said it was fetching a healer. Can I believe it, it could be pounce, and it did bring me to her. But what if no one else was coming?_ The blood was soaking into the bandages even as he tried to keep pressure on the wound. _If I leave now will the bleeding get worse? There is already so much._


	3. Chapter 3

Before he had time to decide if he should leave, the door burst open and Kora was next to him. He had forgotten, their meeting place nearby.

"Kora, please…" He didn't know what he expected her to do but he was glad for her timing.

"Oh, Beka…" Kora sighed, hands sparkling with the blue-green of her gift. "You know I am no healer, Rosto" panic edging her voice. After a moment she pulled away. "I have to find a real healer."

Rosto nodded, though not until after Kora was no more than a slamming door. His reactions were severely delayed as he tried to keep his grasp on reality.

"Beka?" He asked, "are you still awake?"

"Kora made some of the pain go" Her voice was so small. It sounded like someone else. Because his Beka doesn't sound like that. Beka may be shy - but she's confident in her way. She holds her own against his teasing and has done some major damage to his nose over the years. "but I'm sleepy." Her voice trembles slightly though he doesn't know if it is from fear or chill.

He moved closer. Beka was still slumped against the crate. He had taken advantage of the position to wrap her wound without moving her. Now he pushed the box out-of-the-way, taking its place behind her.

She winced as the movement shifted her slightly.

Rosto winced too, "Sorry, I thought it would be better."

She seemed more aware of him now. "How did you find me?"

"Pounce, I think... Who did this?" Rosto whispered, voice sharp.

"I don't know him" Her breathing hitched. Talking was probably painful, he realized.

Still, he pressed on "You said something about a man who looked like me, you meant a Scanran?"

He felt her nod.

It seemed like forever, though it was only mere minutes, that he sat very still holding Beka Cooper. The irony was not lost on him... But now her skin was cool, and occasionally he felt a wave of panic that she was too still and had left him alone.

"Beka?" anxiousness crept into his voice now_ ...Please still be here._

"I always thought it would be a brawl…"

"Don't be melodramatic, love," he said forcing a light tone, "Just think of all the Gillyflowers you'll get while you're recovering."

"...not in season."

"When has that ever stopped me?"

He shouldn't keep making her talk, he knew that, and he allowed his head to fall onto her shoulder. This way he could hear the sound of small breaths – halting and uneven but still reassuring.

After a few minutes he realized her shoulder was warmer than the rest of her skin and slightly damp. He jerked up concerned that he had overlooked a head wound. There was no blood on her shoulder. It took a moment before he smelled the salt.

_So much for my heart of ice._

* * *

Kora returned alone. Beka was now reclined against Rosto's chest and blood soaked his tattered tunic. Rosto's head was drooped over Beka's shoulder but he glanced up as she entered. When Kora looked into the eyes of her friend she saw a heartbroken man. _I am too late... _As tears sprung into her eyes she saw panic fill his. She began to breathe again, his panic reassuring her that there was still time.

"They're coming, I'm faster…they were already on their way somehow."

He nodded; _I'm not crazy._

"She's unconscious." he told Kora. "I can't wake her..."

His voice was unsteady and Kora sat down next to him placing a hand on his shoulder. It was a useless gesture in the face of such anguish, but it was all she could offer. In all the years she had known Rosto, she had never seen him cry. Rosto did not lose control, certainly did not cry. No one saw anything that he did not want them to see. But now there were tears on Rosto's face and she felt utterly out of place in this moment, a witness to something that was supposed to be carefully locked away. She knew - no matter what happened today - she could never tell a soul.

Rosto did not consider himself a sentimental person, it's not a healthy characteristic for a man in his position. But as he sat, with nothing to do but wait, his mind circled around one uncomfortable realization. The man he wanted to be, that he sometimes thought he was ... that man was dying with the Dog in his arms. He was no heartsick child, he knew he would live on if Beka died, but he wasn't certain that he would like the pieces of himself that were left. With unexpected clarity he acknowledged that his grief was not for her alone.

Finally the doors opened once more and two mages from the kennels infirmary ran to their patient. The Rogue returned. His eyes were clear, his voice perfectly calm and steady. No hint of the broken man who had been present only moments before remained. They didn't move her but bombarded Rosto with questions as they worked. "She was alone, likely off duty"..."I don't know exactly, she was wounded when I arrived" ... "Just a few minutes, she was talking until then."

Most of the city knew that the Rogue was on friendly terms with their pretty terrier, but Kora was still surprised when neither mage so much as glanced twice at the Rogue holding the bloodied Dog. _They are, admittedly, a bit distracted,_ Kora thought_._ When they asked him to move Kora pulled him away.

"Beka said he was a Scanran," he told Kora, eyes not leaving the healers.

* * *

The healers bound Beka tightly before moving her but did not remove the blade yet. Once they arrived at Jane Street Kora and Rosto stayed out of the way of the healers but still refused to leave the room Beka was in. The healers ignored them but the Dogs were not so understanding. Eyes watched Rosto from every corner. Some with confusion most with suspicion.

"Since when do we let rats in here," commented a young Dog quietly, only a few years under his belt. He wasn't the only one with concerns.

"... just stand there bold as can be ... we should post a guard, no way he'll take one of ours from inside the kennel."

"Do they really take us for such fools?"

"Blades are his style, I heard he cut his last challenger into 100 pieces."

This was their territory and they were getting bolder, louder and much more difficult to ignore. Finally an older Dog approached. "We protect our own, rat, and this time you stepped over the line."

Kora watched in horror as the Dog brought out his hobbles. "Stop" she cried, this was going to end horribly. But Rosto did not move an inch as the man bound his hands tightly behind him. Kora didn't like seeing Rosto in hobbles but it was better than what she had thought was coming. A dead Dog and a bloody brawl. The Dogs were even bolder now that Rosto was hobbled and the older Dog had his baton out. He brought it down with a thud across Rosto's shoulders. Rosto still did not make a sound, did not even look at him. Kora wasn't sure how to react. She was glad that Rosto had not started a brawl by killing this man, but why wasn't he even responding now? The Dog had glee in his eyes making Kora wonder if he was simply looking for an excuse. She placed herself firmly in front of the bound man, between him and the Dog. She was no rat, technically and they didn't seem to think that she had anything to do with Beka's attack; maybe he would think twice before going through her.

"You finally get sick of her turning you down?" The man asked looking past Kora like she wasn't even there. "Where is this 'mystery attacker' now?"

Rosto finally turned rapidly towards the man who had spoken. The Dog jumped at the sudden movement after Rosto had been so still for so long. Rosto's eyes glittered dangerously, "If I knew he would already-"

"CLEAR OUT, YA CRACKNOBS" Goodwin's crowd voice cut through the mounting tension. "Fools," she grumbled under her breath. The Dogs suddenly remembered what other things they were supposed to be doing and all but the older Dog who had struck Rosto scattered. Reaching Rosto and Kora she turned on him. "Release him, now." The man glared for a moment but finally pulled out a knife. He cut the bonds viciously leaving behind his own mark on the Rogues forearm. With a rapid slight of hand Rosto captured the man's blade and threw it forcefully into the ceiling above him. The Dog looked nervously upwards, perfectly aware that it could have easily found a different target.

"In this kennel we try people first," Goodwin said venomously. "Get out of here."

She turned back towards Rosto, as Kora wrapped up the wound the vicious Dog had left behind.

"Is she awake?"

"No, One puncture wound, severe blood loss but no major organs. The rest is superficial."

"Is he alive?"

"...but wounded."

"One of yours?"

"Outsider."

"You found a Dog with a serious knife injury...clearly that's not convincing as far as some of the Dogs are concerned. They're not the only ones. The story is spreading like wildfire that the Rogue is trying to kill the Terrier."

Rosto nodded grimly, but before he could speak she continued: "Once she wakes up she'll put all this to rest, but until then this is not a good place for you to be."

Kora cut in. "We have to know she's ok, Guardswoman."

To Kora's surprise, Rosto shook his head. "She's right. There's nothing we can do here and I have some things to attend to elsewhere. I'll be back soon."

Goodwin nodded and the two left.

Kora was unnerved by the cold man at her side. She had seen the anguish in his face, the tears in his eyes. Now there was nothing, no worry, no fear or anger, nothing at all to indicate he knew why his clothes were covered in blood. As he entered the Dove most people decided it was time to leave. A cheerful Rogue covered in someone else's blood does tend to have that effect on people. "Aniki," he called lightly, "Get us some privacy and come on back here." Turning to a couple of men near the door he said calmly; "There's another Scanran in town. I want to know where he is." Those that weren't around would soon hear and the whole city would be looking for the man within hours. There weren't many left in the dove by now but those that were hurried out as Kora and Rosto continued back to his rooms. As they entered Rosto began pacing aggressively. A series of crashes made Kora jump as blades flew across the room impaling the wall in quick succession. Once more fire burned in Rosto's eyes. Kora sat down quickly; she was going to want to be out of the way for a few minutes.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time Aniki joined them, Rosto's rooms had taken a beating. He had systematically set about destroying everything in sight. He managed to remove the bloody clothing, but his eyes darted back to the pile of blood soaked garments frequently as he paced. Self control was a habit of Rosto's in public, but he had a temper, and trying to murder a friend was definitely on the list of things that made Rosto grumpy.

"Why didn't I know?" Rosto asked finally "If someone from our past has shown up I should have known." Kora felt a chill, the new calm tone felt more dangerous now that she had seen what was hidden so carefully beneath it.

"He may have nothing to do with us," Kora answered, "the city has been more prosperous lately. That attracts all types." She moved towards the bloody clothes to take them away for cleaning but smoldering dark eyes halted her in her tracks. She reconsidered and returned to her seat.

"What is going on, Rosto?" Aniki asked as she stormed into the room "I'm hearing that you've been trying to kill our resident Dog. Not only that, but I hear you spent last night going around to various drinking dens proclaiming that desire. Given that you spent all of last night here at the Dove..."

"People think I'm trying to kill her..." Rosto said, with a suddenly out of place smile, "Have you ever heard that there is a grain of truth in every rumor."

Kora and Aniki turned towards Rosto with puzzled expressions.

"Beka said he looked like me, she meant he's a Scanran. For this rumor to be spreading so quickly...That means people have seen him. Someone knows where he is..."

Kora sighed, "Must have waited until they were drunk enough to not realize that white hair don't make a Rogue."

"Where is she, Rosto?" Aniki growled.

"Jane Street," Rosto told her, "I found her bleeding out in a sarden warehouse. Some Scanran cove tried to douse her and got more 'n he expected. Craven scut couldn't even take her with an ambush."

Kora brought over some balm for the cut on his arm but Rosto shook his head with a wicked smile. "No, I'll keep this one. It'll brighten my day to remember how many times I could have killed him and all he managed to give me was that little nick."

Now that he had sent out his birdies and spoken to Aniki, Rosto turned to stalk out of the room but Aniki blocked his way stubbornly. "Rosto, as your friend, I cannot let you go out there right now." Rosto didn't speak, just raised his eyebrows coldly. Kora was standing now too, but there was a slight smile on her face now as she watched Aniki stand off with Rosto.

Aniki continued, tone carefully light, "To be honest, I don't really want your job, and if you leave like this you'll get yourself killed."

Rosto's expression softened.

"Thank you." He responded quietly, surprising both women, "but I am in control."

Aniki watched him for a moment longer, "then perhaps a shirt is in order?"

Kora snickered to herself as Rosto hurried back to the bedroom. Returning a moment later looking slightly more put together.

* * *

He returned to the warehouse determined to follow any of the blood trail that remained. He picked up a throwing blade of good quality from the ground wondering if the blood was Beka's or her assailant's. With a surprise he realized that the blade was familiar. It was one of his, not one that he carried regularly but he recognized it nonetheless. It should have been in his rooms at the dove... someone had been in his rooms. There was no question now, the man intended to hang the Rogue by dousing Beka.

The trail near the door was difficult to read because it was now mixed with so much of Beka's own blood, but he remembered the small pool that had been outside the door, indicating that the man had stopped there briefly. Probably lifting the wooden beam to block the door as it had been when Rosto arrived. The trail of blood led him back towards the dove, and he wondered if the man was a member of his court after all. He discarded the idea rapidly. The man would have stood out, he would have noticed. Someone that wants to be involved in the court then? Rosto's sharp eyes followed the droplets until eventually the man must have gotten the bleeding under control. The trail ended and Rosto headed back towards the infirmary.

Why Beka? Beka had enemies all her own; some random rat with a grudge? He discarded that thought as well. The man was a Scanran, new to the area and hanging around the Rogue's court. Not to mention he seemed determined to take both of them down together. _I may have a challenger on my hands,_ Rosto considered, _Though this is certainly a new approach. _Most challengers climb the ladder in full view before trying to take on the current Rogue. That gives them inside knowledge of the court, and they make friends. Not really friends... allies.

Something had driven him from that path... but why Beka? Maybe he was hoping the Dogs would be even more determined to hang Rosto if it was one of their own. Or perhaps something more personal? If the challenger wanted an indirect assault on the Rogue his options were limited. It was of course, despicable, not to mention a violation of the Rogue's law going after friends and family of an enemy. Still, it happened and if someone thought they could get away with it without being caught they might certainly try. Rosto left his Scanran background behind him along with anyone a potential challenger might consider a weakness. Personal connections since coming to Corus had been intentionally sparse. Bedmates were usually a good option, but his never lasted long. Even the most casual observer would not likely suspect them as a way to mess with the Rogue's head. Why not Aniki, or Kora? They had certainly known him the longest...

Rosto knew he flirted very loudly and publicly with Beka, but she was hardly the only one he flirted with. He had always assumed his propensity for flirting with any mot that moved would prevent someone from picking out Beka as a weakness. For all anyone else knew she was just another mark. If someone suspected a deeper connection between the Rogue and the Dog then trying to get to him through Beka became an option. Beka was no easy target, though. Beka's family was far easier. They were under the protection of the Provost, making them nominally harder to get to, but Nilo loves horses and often spends time riding...

At times like this Rosto was glad that Beka could not read his mind. He slipped easily into the potential challengers head to determine which of Beka's family should be eliminated to provide the most distress at the lowest cost. He made a mental note to have someone keep an eye on them, just in case.

* * *

Rosto met Goodwin on the way into the infirmary and handed her the bloody blade. "I'm fairly certain it's his blood," Rosto told her, "I know your mages might be able to do something with that." He paused for a moment. "There's something else you should know about that blade. It was taken from my rooms. The one that wounded Beka was not one of mine, though. I suspect he intended to frame me but Beka was faster than he expected. He had to improvise."

Goodwin nodded taking the weapon from him.

"I need a favor, Guardswoman." Rosto told her. "I want the blade they removed from Beka. I'll see to it that it is returned."

Goodwin nodded again, not surprised in the slightest by that request. "We don't need it, but I am obliged to tell you that if we have any reason to suspect you are putting that weapon to criminal use you _will_ face the King's justice. That little dog in there will see to it herself, as you well know." With a quieter voice she continued, "Keep it clean, or don't get caught, Rogue."

She knew that he didn't need her advice. The Pell brothers were evidence of that. She had no proof, of course, but Rosto's request for the blade had confirmed her long held suspicion that the Pell brothers had been dealt with by Rosto's own hand. They had beaten Beka badly, and they had been killed the same way. And now Rosto was requesting the blade used to injure Beka to deal with another that had tried to take her life. It was poetic justice and Rosto had a flair for poetic justice.

"Of course, Guardswoman," Rosto smiled innocently "Challengers are, as you know, under my jurisdiction to deal with as I please."

Rosto turned to go, but hesitated, turning back to the older dog. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For not asking if it was me."

She nodded curtly. "I'm not blind, but I can't fix this. The cage dogs want you and until Beka wakes I can't stop them from trying to question you. You know their methods."

The Dogs kept their opinions to themselves for now and Rosto suspected that Goodwin had something to do with that. The healers had finally removed the weapon and Beka was wrapped tightly in large bandages that sparkled with many gifts. Small amounts of red were already staining the pristine bandages.

He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment if for no other reason than to quell his desire to pace. He reached down and touched her face, she wouldn't know, anyway. He couldn't stay for long. Being under the protection of the Rogue was no sure thing. In fact, while providing protection from those loyal to him and those who feared him, it created a target for those with a grudge. Showing too much interest in her recovery was a great way to put another bullseye on her head.

As he left the kennel he became aware that he had a shadow. That was quick...cage dogs most likely. Taking an unusual route he tried to shake them. He had no intention of dousing a pair of cage dogs today even if they were brutes. Unfortunately there were more than two, which he discovered when two more cut him off in the alley he had turned into.

"Isn't it a little late to be starting a vendetta," he chided "I always find things go better when you start fresh in the morning."

"Arrogant scummer, you do not get to do that to the Dogs."

A large fist was launched in his direction slow enough that Rosto almost laughed, _Really? All right one broken wrist it is._

As the first dog cried out in pain the other three pulled out their batons. Fortunately coordination was not a strong point of this particular group and Rosto had a merry time redirecting the clumsy blows onto other less desired targets - like each other. The dogs were practically growling now. With a count of one broken wrist, one broken nose 3 black eyes and more bruises than they could count against them they were hopefully starting to reconsider their evenings adventure. But one thing about cage dogs...they don't give up and at a ratio of 4 to 1 Rosto was starting to tire. A lucky shot to his torso was their first victory and it gave the others a chance to recover. The batons rained down in a newly coordinated effort and Rosto tasted blood.


	5. Chapter 5

_This is no longer fun. _Rosto thought, coughing as another blow brought more blood into his mouth. His ribs ached and he prayed they weren't cracked. He had refused to resort to blades so far and he knew he might as well be fighting with a hand hobbled. Actually it was far worse than fighting with one hand hobbled. He could take these brutes easily with one hand given access to his weapons. Releasing one of his knives from its sheath he turned on one of the dogs, bringing the blade to his throat and pushing him into the wall, a line of blood demonstrating the severity of the situation to the other three.

"It's been fun boys, really I can see why everyone is so keen to visit you in the cages." Rosto said with a grimace, spitting out the blood next to him before continuing. There was terror in his victims eyes. "I really am not in the mood to kill you tonight...and as I am both completely innocent of these particular charges, and better armed...I'm going to call it a night. So here is what is going to happen. I am going to release this oaf by throwing him none-to-gracefully at you. He will break his wrist on landing and I will walk back to the Dancing Dove. At this point you have a decision to make. You can go home or you can follow me and try again. However, this time I _will_ use my knives. You may have heard, I am quite proficient with them. Everyone made up your mind? Lovely. On 3. 1 ... 2." with a devilish smile he launched the Dog across the alley. The man landed hard and cried out cradling his wrist with a look of shock on his face.

They didn't try again.

Kora rolled her eyes as he walked into the dove, "Again?" she commented taking in his bloody clothes. Rosto chuckled, but it turned into a cough which made his sore ribs ache. "What are we going to do with you," Kora mumbled under her breath as she led him back to where she kept her kit.

"Kiss 'im better?" Rosto suggested.

"Does that ever _actually_ work for you?" Aniki asks.

Rosto grinned, "You'd be surprised."

Aniki laughed then whispered, "You're not fooling anyone, Piper, now go get yourself cleaned up. You have breaking and entering to do tonight."

Rosto smiled. They knew him so well.

* * *

Several hours, a few bandages, and a jar and a half of bruise balm later, he returned to the infirmary. With only a few dogs on duty here it was easy enough to get in. Night watch wouldn't be back for hours and as long as he didn't try to leave during a watch change he was unlikely to be noticed.

He sank down next to Beka's cot with a sigh. He hadn't learned anything in the last few hours and his mind was spinning - frustrated by stagnation. He was dependent on good information coming in and had no way to make sure that it did. The hours dragged by but the Rogue felt no desire to sleep, he wasn't entirely convinced that she was safe here anyway, look how easily he had gotten in. He pulled out the blade that Goodwin had given him earlier still coated in the dark red of her blood. He cleaned it carefully as he waited for Beka to wake. A watch came and went, making him reflect on the reaction of the dogs should they come and to find him hovering next to her bed cleaning a knife. But no one entered the infirmary, must have been a quiet watch.

Eventually Beka began to stir and her eyes opened. She looked disoriented as she woke in the dark unfamiliar surroundings. "You're safe, Beka," Rosto told her, leaning forward to take one of her hands, "safe, in the dogs infirmary."

"Don't let them see you goin' soft, pretty-boy," Beka murmurred pulling her hand away.

He laughed, that would be the first thing she would say. He wasn't certain if it was actually funny or if relief had made him slightly giddy. "Don't you worry after my reputation. Since no one knows I am here, it is quite safe."

"He was a Scanran, Rosto." Her voice was tired, but there was a manic energy in it. "And he introduced himself with your name...Did I tell you that?"

"You didn't really have to. Most of the city thinks I'm trying to kill you. Anyway, we can talk about all of that later, you should rest."

"What are you doing here, Rosto, it must be late."

"Technically it's early... If I can sneak in when they think I'm the one trying to kill you...I don't exactly trust that someone else couldn't do the same."

"I got him twice, he's out of commission for a while."

Rosto nodded and smiled. "Good dog."

She ignored him, "He said he had 'family' here, but I don't think he was telling the truth."

"Probably not," Rosto, responded. "I certainly don't have any family that would drop in for a quick killing spree. Neither do Aniki and Kora."

"He told me I had a 'propensity for getting in the way'," Beka reflected with confusion.

"That you do, love." Rosto laughed as another piece dropped into place. _That's why he hadn't bothered Beka's family. Beka had a reputation, and the man didn't want the Terrier bothering him once he was Rogue. Two birds, so to speak. _"You may have just met a contender for my throne."_ Aniki would be a problem for him too, and probably Kora.._._if he was truly trying to take care of these kind of obstacles before the official challenge, both would be on the list._

Rosto watched as she tried to place the information he gave her. Then something occurred to her and she looked up at him with surprise. "You saved my life, Rosto, I never-"

"Of course," he interrupted "No one messes with my puppy!"

"I am _not_ your puppy" She responded indignantly, a spark of life returning to tired eyes.

"That's true, you were promoted, I apologize." He smirked, apologizing for the nickname but not the possessive was a sure way to get injured.

Beka smiled, eyes far away. His heart soared as he thought, _I wonder what she would do if I…__That wouldn't be fair, she's probably drugged anyway._

Rosto was unaware of how right he was. Beka wasn't drugged, but still her mind was starting to wander. She was having a conversation; it all seemed so normal, so real but...not quite. Suddenly she wondered if she was dreaming.

Maybe no one had come.

Terror crept into the crevices of her mind. Was it possible, is that why things felt so strange? Could she still be unconscious on the floor of that warehouse, a fantasy of recovery to comfort her. She didn't remember coming here, didn't remember any healers talking to her... Wasn't this all just a little too clean? Rosto happening upon an abandoned warehouse just in the nic of time...

Rosto watched as her eyes grew cold and distant, but that wasn't all. There was something else, something that looked like fear.

And then suddenly Beka was pulled back to the present. Rosto was kissing her. Beka was off-guard, she didn't punch him. She was too tired and his lips were so warm, so solid, so real. They grounded her, reassured her that she was still alive, that she was not caught in a dream world, dying on the floor of a lonely warehouse.

Rosto smirked mischievously as he pulled away, unaware of how desperately Beka had needed the contact. His hand remained on the back of her neck, though, a lifeline neither of them was fully aware she needed. He gently touched the strands of hair that had come loose from her braid.

"Please don't scare me like that again, love," He said. "I can't think straight when you're off trying to get yourself killed."

_She didn't punch me_. Rosto thought, _Maybe she really is drugged._

* * *

The next morning Beka made her official statement, putting to rest some of the rumors spiraling out of control in the city. Not everyone was pleased by her statement. A odd group of four battered cage dogs came by not long after to ask her if she was sure. Apparently they had been looking forward to throwing Rosto in the cages that day and were not happy to be told they could no longer do so. Beka thought it odd that these men were so..passionate about locking Rosto away, until she noticed the thin red line gracing one of the men's throats. Beka would have gambled everything she owned that those men had tried to take Rosto before any official charges had been laid against him. Her eyes must have turned cold because the men began to look uncomfortable and scattered.

Rosto mostly avoided being seen at the infirmary during the day but came by during the night to check on her. Over the next few days the healers helped the wound to close and prevent infection. It wasn't long, however, before Beka began trying to convince them that she could recover better at home. Rosto promised the best care crooked money could buy and near constant supervision. They eventually gave in. The Dog's infirmary was not intended for long-term care anyway.

There were two conditions on her freedom, however. One was that she continue to be seen by healers regularly, which had already been arranged. The second was that she was confined to bed rest until the healers told her otherwise. She was not to walk on her own without permission, the healer told her scowling, or she would reopen the newly healed wound.

Beka did not look happy. "So how am I getting home?" she asked, as the healer left the room.

"Sounds like you've got a problem." Rosto commented, feigning confusion. He had shown up a few minutes prior and was now leaning against the wall watching her fume with far too jovial of an expression on his face. "You could stay here until they clear you for brief periods out of bed, shouldn't be more than another week or so." His face was serious as he spoke, but his eyes were bright with merriment.

She knew where this was going. _Is another week stuck here worth my pride? _She sighed. _Another week it is._

"Ah," Rosto exclaimed, with an unabashedly terrible impression of coming up with an idea. "I could carry you back... if you want me to?"

_He is evil._

_"_I can wait."

He just laughed, resuming his position against the wall arms crossed in front of him.

"Don't you have anything better to do, Rosto?"

"No. More productive, perhaps."

He knew he could out-wait Beka Cooper. He'd had a lot of practice. The minutes ticked by and Beka tried not to look at the infuriating man who stood perfectly still watching her.

Finally he moved closer to the bed, "Are you ready to go yet, puppy?"


	6. Chapter 6

"Fine... but if you try anything ...I swear you will spend the next 3 months trying to explain how a girl that wasn't supposed to be walking managed to do so much damage."

"I believe you, it is of great comfort that you can't actually kill me without taking over the court...Just something to keep in mind, Beka."

The bright glint in his eye was still there..._Gods I just want to hit him. _Beka thought to herself, ignoring the smile she knew was slipping onto her face.

"If you're ready, my Lady," he asked extending a hand to her.

_I am going to regret this _she thought, nodding as he gently lifted her into his arms.

She winced slightly but the pain faded.

As they walked, or rather as he walked, Rosto tried to convince Beka to take up residence at the Dancing Dove. Beka, unsurprisingly, balked.

"A Dog cannot live in the Court of the Rogue, Rosto. It's absurd."

"Well you're not technically on duty, so I will make an exception for you. But you must promise not to try too hard to hobble my court while you are supposed to be resting."

"How very hospitable, on the other hand...over my dead body." She growled.

Rosto winced at the slightly too literal expression. "Well we were hoping to avoid that. If this Scanran returns, you'll just ... quip him to death?"

"I have throwing knives, and I can take care of myself."

"Didn't work out so well last time," he muttered.

"Rosto..." Beka started, exasperated.

"Had to try, love, but I've already moved some stuff back to my old rooms anyway." A sly smile lit up his face. Beka and Holborn had lived in those rooms briefly, and it felt strange but he still thought of them as his. "I did promise the healers that someone would be looking after you most of the time." Rosto continued.

"You've picked an unfortunate time to start keeping your word." Beka retorted, instantly regretting the venom of her words. She felt his muscles tighten with displeasure as he glanced down at her.

She had been thrown off by the mention of Rosto's old rooms, that had been empty. After Holborn's death Beka moved back upstairs needing a change of scenery. She couldn't stay there. They were filled with ghosts of old fights and the feelings she was supposed to have but couldn't find.

"I guess I just know better than to disobey a mage," Rosto said coldly.

"Sorry, Rosto," she admitted, "I'm a little..."

"I know."

The walk was not far though Rosto moved very slowly to avoid jarring her. Beka was thoroughly uncomfortable now that the distracting bickering had quieted. Well, maybe not thoroughly. Rosto was too close, much too close. She could count the beats of his heart and every breath he took. Against her better judgement, she felt safe. Beka leaned her head against his shoulder trying not to enjoy the way his heart sped up as she relaxed into him. It was dangerous, being this close to Rosto... Beka was both relieved and confused by the time he deposited her in her rooms and headed off to check on things at the Dove.

Not before asking if she needed someone to tuck her in and keep her warm, of course. The familiar crash of Beka throwing things at Rosto alerted her friends to her return nicely.

* * *

Thanks to Rosto's staff of healers she was walking again in a week, but she slept a lot, constant healing drained her energy. At least one of her friends was always around while she was awake and nearby when she slept. In the evenings Rosto, Aniki and Kora gathered in Beka's rooms. The dove seemed a little too public these days.

"We know he is still in the city," Aniki starts. "But every time we get a whisper of him he disappears again."

"Obviously the first plan to get the Dogs to take out Rosto for him did not go over so well." Kora reflects, "What is he waiting for, why not just challenge Rosto directly?"

Rosto is quiet again tonight, like he has been every night for days now. He is composed in court, but in the privacy of Beka's room he wilts. Now he stares blankly out towards the hallway eyes a peculiar combination of manic vigilance and utter exhaustion. Beka is accustomed to seeing Rosto always poised, always ready even in the most relaxed of circumstances. Now his posture is slumped and Beka knew if an outsider could see him now he would have more than one challenger to contend with. He doesn't sleep anymore. When her dreams wake her, she hears him outside, boots pacing back and forth down the hallway.

"He's still hurt," Beka reminds them. "He may not have easy access to healers?"

"He can afford a healer." Rosto says. Shaking his head as he draws himself back to the present. "We need to be more careful." He tosses a piece of paper into the center of the group.

I found this on Aniki's door last night. The note read: 'Who protects your watchdogs, Piper?'

"It would have released a toxin when the door opened. You don't have to be a mage when you can buy good help. This particular charm is common..."

"In the cages," Beka finishes. "When they think someone will try to run. In the cages it usually contains a sleeping charm..."

"This one was no sleeping charm. If no one had seen it until morning. Silence falls over the group until Rosto resumes. "I thought he would try again, he wants to clear the way... but I don't know how he got past, I saw nothing. He got in anyway."

Aniki looks at Rosto, finally deciding to say out loud what everyone was thinking. "When was the last time you slept, Rosto?"

A grim look shows them that he knows what is happening.

"So now he can just wait for Rosto to fall over of his own volition." Beka comments dryly.

They parted for the evening and when Aniki promised to stay up for watch that night Rosto went to bed.

* * *

In the middle of the night, Beka's door opened though she knew she had locked it. Her throwing knife impaled a book held squarely in front of Rosto's head. "Just me, Love" Rosto said, lowering the book slightly, not entirely certain his greeting would prevent another assault.

"What's wrong?" Beka asks in confusion, "Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?" She is sleepy again now that the threatening book had been neutralized.

"I have a vivid imagination," he said, throwing the book aside. "It doesn't sleep." He showed her the bedroll he had hidden behind his back. "I'll be good, I promise."

Normally she would have scoffed at the idea, but as she looked at him she realized, there was no mischief in his eyes. No sly twinkle, no life. She nodded and drifted back to sleep almost instantly, but Rosto could not do the same. He thought he could protect them by moving everyone back into the boarding house, by keeping everyone together. The man was a ghost. Aniki was watching tonight, but it didn't seem to matter.

Rosto's vigilance was destroying him, but he could not bear the thought that his challenger might return while he slept. As he watched Beka, it gradually convinced his fevered mind that all was well and he drifted off. What seemed like only moments later, Rosto shot upright, terror filling him as he realized he had fallen asleep. As he got his bearings he saw Beka was already awake standing next to the dark window. She glanced over at him with a knowing look. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked him.

Rosto stayed quiet, and Beka nodded, "Neither do I." She walked back towards her bed dropping a hand onto his shoulder as she passed. He put his hand on top of hers stopping her in her tracks. "He's a coward, Beka," Rosto said, "I never realized how dangerous a coward can be."

"We'll find him." She squeezed his shoulder before heading back to bed.

She didn't ask about the dreams again, and he did not ask about hers - it seemed best not to dwell on them. Rosto was uncharacteristically respectful of her personal space, making no attempt to leave his spot next to her window. Seeing Beka safe sometimes gave him the strength to go back to sleep, where perhaps – if he was lucky- he could spend a few hours free of the Scanran's game.

* * *

Beka was not immune. She was afraid, but not for herself. Rosto was deteriorating rapidly. When he smiled she could almost forget. He had a confidence and a swagger that made her want to hit him, but it also hid his true condition better than she would have thought possible. When he thought no one was looking, though, she began to notice the circles under his eyes and a growing disconnect between him and the world around him. His reactions were visibly slower and he looked older. She stopped teasing him about his white hair...it rang too true now. Many nights she woke to the sound of pacing, worn boots treading a tired watch around their domain. On several occasions he slept in his bedroll on her floor, and she hoped that he would get some relief from his constant vigil. Tonight things were bad again. He hadn't even bothered with the bedroll, instead walking straight over to the wall next to the window and sinking down next to it. It was incredible, how much things had changed. A few weeks ago she would have sooner used him as target practice than to allow this... Now, the man with haunted eyes spent the night gazing out her window. She didn't entirely understand why he came. They didn't talk and at times he seemed hardly to notice that she was there. Still, she supposed he must take some comfort from her presence or he wouldn't be here. When she woke the next day, just before sunrise, he greeted her with a pleasant good morning. He hadn't moved an inch since he had come in the night before. With the sunrise he returned to the dove, to spend another day pretending everything was under control.


	7. Chapter 7

Once free of the bed rest nightmare Beka decided to use the newfound free time to visit her spinners. She had made the unusual request of Rosto to bring her dust from the warehouse preferably from where her wounded attacker had bled onto the floor. She didn't know if this would help her get the information she needed, but it was worth a shot. To his credit he agreed with only the slightest look of concern. The next day she had it.

As usual she started with Shiaa, she is usually among the most "talkative" of the spinners. She gathered every bit of conversation like precious gemstones and poured it all towards Beka at once. While slightly overwhelming Beka had gotten very good at sorting things out. Most of the talk that had been collected was about Rosto this time, and more specifically what had made him try to kill the Terrier. "She finally kicked him outa her bed, I tell ya, he may look like ice but Scanran's are dangerous folk." Lovers spats theories of various kinds were abundant and Beka blushed crimson. As she sorted through the conversations she found bits of drunkin' talk about Rosto on some tirade against her claiming with dramatic eloquence that he would see the end of her the next day. Not a surprise there, and unfortunately no one was talking about where "Rosto" had gone after that. Thanking Shiaa she made her to Aveefa hoping that she might catch a conversation about when this newcomer had come into the city. Travelers tales were abundant but nothing that sounded like her attacker. Hasfush whipped violently in what could only be called annoyance at being ignored for so long. She made her apologies as she gave the spinner her gift.

Again rumors flew around her and she realized that even if she heard something useful, it might be something about Rosto and she would never know the difference. She heard a young voice talking eagerly about the Rogue getting the Terrier all 'caged in' at the waterfront, but nothing that would indicate where he had gone after. Raaashell carried much of the same, but she also heard tiny snatches of Rosto in here. "It's been fun boys, really I can see why everyone is so keen to visit you in the cages... kill you tonight...here is what is going to happen..." the conversation drifted away but came back to her with an echo of his chilling voice "I will use knives..." Beka shuddered - glad the rest of the conversation was lost to her. It was nothing she didn't know before, but it still made her feel cold. She was going to need a pastry on the way home. The rest of the news was of a far more useless variety but she thanked the spinner sincerely before leaving.

When she got back to the boarding house she saw Rosto at his desk staring at a bundle of papers that he didn't appear to be reading. "Anyone home, Rosto?" She called , tossing one of the rolls she had bought on the way home at him. It fell. It chilled her nearly as much as the spinners echo of him had. _He is going to get himself killed, just like... _

Walking towards him she leaned against his desk. Placing a hand on the back of his chair she leaned close.

"Rosto, this has to stop" She whispered.

"What are you talking about, Cooper?" He responded distractedly.

"Oh, nothing. Only one of the fastest men in Corus managing to let something sail right past him."

He smiled brightly and laughed: "One of? It's just a roll, Beka... When it counts I'll thank you to say The fastest!"

"Is that so?" She raised her eyebrows and moved the knife she had slipped behind his chair gently to the side of his throat.

He reacted automatically to the chill of the cold metal, grabbing her wrist and twisting it away. Her point was made and with a look of surprise he released her arm. Beka returned the blade to its sheath rubbing her wrist gingerly. He looked up at her in concern, "I'm sorry... did I hurt you?"

"No," Beka laughed, "that's is the problem you cracknob...you should have. I would have broken your hand if you had tried that stunt I just pulled."

The mask fell away and a different man sat in front of her.

He smiled grimly. "I promised that I would not hurt you, I meant it."

"Good thing _I_ don't want your throne, then." Beka retorted. The echo of his voice in the spinner had made her suspicious. How could she let him pretend that was true? He was a rusher. Worse than most.

"I've considered that," He responded simply.

Her number one default response, 'make it a joke', had backfired badly this time. Backup plan: redirect.

"Kora can make you something, to help you sleep." Beka told him.

He sighed, "I could sleep through anything."

"Please, let her help."

She was right, of course. If he were challenged now, he would be killed. Fortunately, he was still a good actor and that had kept all but his closest friends ignorant of his deteriorating condition. His head dropped into his hands briefly as he nodded again, and when he emerged the mask was firmly back in place.

* * *

Kora's 'tea' made a significant difference. It didn't keep away all of the dreams, but with its aid he could get several hours uninterrupted sleep most nights.

Beka had still not returned to her patrols and she began to train with Rosto most mornings. This morning Beka finished tying her braid as she walked past Rosto's door. She didn't even bother knocking, just commented from outside: "You're late." She knew he would be fully awake even at this absurd hour.

"I'm not late, you're early." He said opening the door. Fully awake yes, fully clothed, not so much. He held his tunic in his hands giving her a glimpse at the yellowing remains of countless bruises covering his torso. She looked at him in confusion. "What in the ..."

He glanced down realizing what was concerning her. "Ah, yes... forgot about that. Some gifts from some surprisingly loyal cage dogs."

She remembered them from the infirmary and suddenly wondered if that was the group of cage dogs he had been speaking to when the spinner had caught his words. It was possible, now that she thought about it no dead cage dogs had shown Up recently. The ones that had visited her had been pretty beat up themselves, at least two of them sporting broken wrists and one looked like he had had to reset his nose. She had seen no evidence of cuts, though, save the one which was clearly a warning. She had assumed that meant Rosto had not needed to bother with blades. The extensive collection of bruises on his body implied a different story and she was slightly perplexed. Could she have misinterpreted...Rosto didn't seem the type to risk his own well being to avoid hurting a bunch of cage dogs.

"I'm dreadful with curved blades, let's start there," she stated, changing the subject as she always did when something made her uncomfortable.

"Are you trying to imply that you have been going easy on me?" He asked, feigning indignation as he shrugged into the tunic he had been holding on her arrival.

"I know how much you hate being humiliated in the morning."

He smiled wickedly as he strapped the remainder of his knives into place. Beka had a feeling she was going to regret that comment as they climbed to the roof. Beka really did hate curved blades. They were not intuitive to her and she found it frustrating. She definitely could have picked a better day to mock him...

In spite of that Beka was enjoying herself. She felt life return to her limbs and found that she was doing surprisingly well, she had fully expected humiliation with this particular weapon of choice. Instead, Rosto found himself backing away from the fiery Dog with too much energy.

"Aren't you afraid you are giving away your secrets, Master Rogue?" she teased.

"You know my secrets, Puppy," He smirked. "Not to mention your cages could not hold me."

"Most rats think so" she muttered. The tide was turning now, and she saved her breath as she backed away.

With a dramatic movement he sent her blade clattering across the rooftop and pulled her close, his own blade delicately placed at her throat. With a smile he replaced the blade with a quick kiss. "Most rats are not the king of the rats," he whispered in her ear as he released her.

She put her hands on her knees trying to get her breath back (no more curved blades, tomorrow she would knock him back down a bit.) They were usually evenly matched and she had been winning far more often this last week despite her stiff condition. Maybe this meant he really was returning to normal.

"...Do you think he will challenge you openly?"

He nodded, she was pleased to see that he too was winded. "An ambush may work for a lot of things, but it doesn't get you the respect you need to take over the court."

"We don't even know for sure that's what he wants."

"His movements are not random. He is scouting, that's what I did before taking over. A Rogue cannot afford a breaking-in period, you must know everything the old Rogue knew the moment he falls. Of course, I also made myself known, made allies. He has a different approach...",

She was quiet for a moment and he felt a familiar chill as he watched those ethereal eyes and wondered if they saw something that he could not.

"He's fast, Rosto, He was faster than me."

Rosto nodded, still somewhat distracted by ghostly eyes.

"And I've seen my share of tricks... I didn't see it coming. I thought I had him."

"Don't underestimate me, Love. I have an advantage that you didn't."

"What?"

"You went in blind, I won't have to."

"I'm feeling better."

"That's good." He replied, confused by her foreboding tone.

"No, that means he is too."

"Don't be so pessimistic, Beka," came Aniki's voice from the stairs, her voice getting louder as she came into view, Kora a step behind, "You're just mad because you can't hold onto your blade in the morning!"

Beka laughed, "Apparently not, why don't you show him how it's done, you like these horrid bent things."

Kora and Beka talked as Aniki and Rosto trained. Despite the fact that Beka detested using them, she had to admit there was a certain grace to their use. The pair moved easily, in rapid flowing drills that were about muscle memory rather than combat training. It was quite beautiful and watching the flashing of the blades calmed some of her fears. She had underestimated Rosto, more than the challenger had. There was a reason he didn't think he could win without messing with the Rogues head first.

* * *

Things at court progressed much as they always had. Few knew why the Rogue was so intent upon finding the blond-haired Scanran - though most suspected its relation to Beka's attack. This was not so unusual. Any Rogue who wanted to stay in power for longer than a month or two discouraged high-profile murder attempts on the King's law enforcement. Particularly when organized by an outsider.

Rosto observed the Court from his dais as he sharpened a blade from one of his forearm sheaths. He sharpened many of his blades in public. Not only did it occupy his hands, but he enjoyed the image it created for anyone glancing towards his throne - no one would forget how he had earned his position.

As he worked he reflected on Beka's prediction that the Scanran would make his move soon, now recovered from the feisty Dog's wounds. He knew those wounds had saved not only Beka's life, but his own. He had come close to falling apart in the aftermath of the attack on Beka and invasions of his home. If Beka had not wounded the man, he would have taken full advantage of the Rogues vulnerability. Beka had taken that advantage away, and it made all the difference.

Aniki was standing nearby with a faraway look on her face. Rosto smiled, "You need a better mask, Aniki, or you will be mistaken for a minnow."

She nodded "Just wondering if we know him." She began spinning one of her own knives in a game she often played with herself while thinking. Another useful mannerism on the intimidation front.

"I've wondered that myself."

"Whoever he is, he didn't think he could win without some unusual advantages..." she continued, letting the knife thud point first into the wood of the dais before sending it flying in another intricate vertical spin. "He missed his chance," Aniki echoed Rosto's thoughts.

"I'd say so" he smirked. With a rapid movement he plucked Aniki's spinning knife out of the air to examine it. "You should come up with a habit which does not dull your weapons."


	8. Chapter 8

Beka was fuming.

"It's probably for the best," Kora told her matter-of-factly, "Just because you can spar with Rosto doesn't mean you are quite ready to be breaking up tavern brawls."

"They said I would put myself and my partner at risk!"

"You will be cleared for duty as soon as the healers think you are ready, it won't be much longer."

"By then I will have gone mad from boredom." Beka muttered.

Kora smiled at Beka's overreaction "You've survived worse."

Beka sighed, "I have to get out of here, I'm going to go walk, want to come?"

"And watch you glare at everyone in sight, thanks Beka, maybe next time."

She threatened a few pickpockets to cheer herself up. They didn't have to know she couldn't hobble them today without getting herself in trouble.

As she turned a corner a flash of gold caught her eye. She surveyed the crowd, heart pounding with excitement. Rosto's birdies hadn't seen the Scanran for the last two days. He was lying low, but no one thought he had given up. The crowd was clear. She cursed her overactive imagination before turning around to continue on her way: and running straight into the flash of blonde she had seen.

"You should pay more attention to your surroundings, Puppy, I hear the Terrier is roaming the streets again."

Beka recovered quickly, determined not to let Rosto know how much he had startled her.

"Did the baby foists come running to you to protect them?" She scoffed.

"Not exactly, but birdies do chirp when you're around."

She decided to take it as a compliment and continued on her way.

"They also seem to think that you are not yet on duty, what are you doing?" He asked, following a step behind her.

"I'm walking, not patrolling. You can tell the difference because you're not in hobbles," she responded grumpily.

"How about I 'not patrol' with you in case you change your mind about those hobbles." He smiled. "We both know they couldn't hold me, but if you asked nicely..."An icy glare stopped him short.

"Rosto, I'm not your..."

"doxie, I know, but I do believe dogs are supposed to have partners, someone to watch their back?"

"You're no dog," She grumbled irritably.

"As it turns out, I'm aware of that," He said brightly, still ignoring her obvious irritation. "and it's a good thing too, who would keep you on your toes if I was to go all respectable."

"I wouldn't worry about that, there never seems to be a shortage of rats to keep me busy." Of course none of them were quite as interesting as Rosto. She found herself remembering the first time she saw him, with more scars and more knives than anyone who wasn't going to cause problems should have.

"Do you carry a buckle knife?" Beka interjected abruptly, remembering her initial evaluation of Rosto to her, then, training dogs.

He glanced sideways at her in confusion and she wondered if he realized how much his scar stood out when he raised his eyebrows like that. Probably, vain cove spent too much time in a mirrored glass.

She blushed and began to ramble. "I counted seven hidden blades when we were first trying to determine how much trouble you were going to cause... and I always wondered..." she trailed off.

"Trouble? Now puppy, if you think carefully you were the first to lift somthin' off me. And the first to draw blood. First to bruise my eye, first to break my nose... Come to think of it, I've never done any of those things to you. Perhaps you have the workin's of a rusher after all..." He continued to watch her, his face stoic except for the slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he saw her starting to get flustered under his gaze.

She was bright red now, "You didna answer me," she said, slipping into cant as she always did when embarrassed.

"Apparently I still have a secret or two," He teased, enjoying her embarrassment. "Nine usually... ten lately." He produced a glittering blade from its sheath on his belt.

It was familiar and Beka's stomach dropped uncomfortably. She didn't know why she had never wondered about its whereabouts.

"This one needs to be returned to its owner," he explained, dark eyes like stone.

They spent the next hours in her rooms talking. Everything she could remember, anything that stood out to her. She realized that she had forgotten details by not thinking about it anymore than she had to. She had written it down in her journals, though, with a Dog's accuracy. She showed him everything the man had done, each blow and feint. She pointed out the exact spot on his shoulder where she had left her first wound and where each blade under his clothing was located. He favored his right arm for knife throwing but was capable of throwing with his left; he also favored his left for strong physical blows like the one that had nearly been Beka's undoing. His pain tolerance was very high - even after receiving a knife wound in his throwing arm he was perfectly willing to use that arm to block her baton attacks. That was painful and he had hardly flinched. She remembered the sound of the door being blocked behind her - a potential accomplice? Though not one that was directly involved in the fighting. More likely he simply hired a street urchin who would also serve as a witness against Rosto after the fact.

She was watching the courtyard, glowing in the fading sun. As the sun set she thanked the Black God for another day without any of her friends coming to her on pigeons.

* * *

Beka was finally alone. It was nice actually. She had spent the last few weeks in the constant company of healers not to mention the rotation of Aniki, Kora and Rosto. The only quiet she normally had was at night and even then her solitude was sometimes intruded upon. She walked to her window, wondering if it was too late to visit the spinners which she had sadly been neglecting. Looking out the window the street was empty...really empty. There was not a single person in the street. It wasn't _that_ late... Turning around she walked into the hallway looking for Aniki or Kora. Moving into the street, she wandered towards the dove. No one was there. A noise from the dais caught her attention a gentle cooing from a single pigeon watching her.

"_This is an odd feeling, Puppy. It's not as peaceful as I'd hoped_." Rosto's voice came to her. "_I was wrong about the ambush. I should have seen it coming, but I was so tired..._"

There was a rustling coming from the door. She turned towards it as Kora's voice floated lightly to her from another bird. "_It wasn't a sleeping charm Beka..._"

Aniki's continued, "_not this time_."

"_I stayed awake for you, Beka, I tried to protect you, since you couldn't protect yourself,_" Rosto tells her.

More pigeons were flocking into the court now in twos and threes, dozens surrounded her; so loud, all competing to be heard.

"_It's not your fault, I should have known I couldn't afford a weakness._" The tone of forgiveness was more painful than any accusation possible.

The cries were growing more desperate, filling the silence with terror and anger. "_BEKA_?" a panicked Tansy cried, "_Where is Rolond, shouldn't I at least..._?" Beka was backing away from the door, from the swarms of voices calling her name. "It's a dream." Beka mutters to herself. Diona asked her why she couldn't have been a good lady like she was supposed to, Nilo just whimpered. "It's Not REAL, NOT REAL." She tries to drown out the voices, but there are too many.

"_Silly gixie_." Rosto's voice is cold in her ear chilling her to the core. "_Of course it's not real. Not yet, love._"

Her eyes snap open as she shoots upright in bed, her body paralyzed but for the tremors that run through her. Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized she was not alone, Rosto was next to her window again. His eyes widen slightly. The next moment he is close, and he is holding her and she has to stop shaking. She has to stop shaking, or he's going to find out. _Not yet, love _his voice echoes in her head, now competing with another voice. "It's not real, Beka, not real." _Not yet._

"I wish I'd killed him," Beka mumbled eyes still closed.

"No you don't, that's my justice - it's not yours."

"I'm sorry." _I stayed awake for you, Beka...since you couldn't protect yourself._ "You should go back to sleep, Rosto." Her eyes drooped and her words were mumbled. She wasn't entirely awake herself.

"Oh, I've already visited the warehouse once tonight, I came here in the hopes of avoiding a return trip."

"Does it help?" Beka mumbled.

He didn't respond for a moment, trying to decide how much he could safely say. "Not with the dreams...But yes, sometimes."

"That's good...Don't tell Rosto."

He smiled, apparently she hadn't bothered to stop talking before falling asleep again. "Why not?"

"have to punch 'im."

_Well, to be fair that is her general logic when she was awake too. Maybe she's less stubborn in her sleep..._

"Maybe you shouldn't punch him so much." He suggested with a smile.

Beka giggled, "tha's stupid."

_Can't blame a cove for trying._

It was probably best that he never mention the giggling. Ever. He waited for the dream to return. His generally did. He should probably leave, but Beka curled up next to him and he couldn't pull himself away. She was going to kill him...There were worse ways to go.


	9. Chapter 9

The dream did not return. She _was_ lucky. Rosto knew better than to try to go back to sleep himself. It had not been a peaceful night for him either, and he couldn't stomach the idea of returning to that cold building again. Not when she was so warm, so alive right here. He knew she wouldn't want him here when she woke up again. In fact he wouldn't be surprised if she didn't remember their conversation at all. Probably for the best, he had told her that his nightmares were usually some variation on the day he had found her dying in that bloody warehouse. She must know that already, but he had no desire to confirm it. He looked down at Beka. _She looks softer... _That was the only way he could think of to describe it. She was so tense when he was around, so guarded; but she had unconsciously decided that Rosto was a good source of warmth and now slept peacefully against his chest. _I know I'm being a looby, _he thinks, _staying here with her, pretending that if she woke up she might do something other than turn into a violent whirlwind of indignation. _He was only making things harder on himself, of course, maintaining this absurd hope, but it was no longer a choice.

When the sky outside began to turn grey, the first hint of morning, Rosto finally pulled himself away. In a few minutes he had checked that the boarding house was secure. Aniki was still asleep. Kora probably was too, but Rosto had enough to worry about without the burns he would sustain if he checked on her at this hour. He smiled at the thought, if his challenger had picked Kora's door to leave his little note it might have been a much more entertaining morning.

It was too late for some and too early for others so the streets were empty as he reached the Dove. Coming in through the back he approached the dais from behind. As he passed it a flash of silver caught his eye. He moved to the defensive instantly. To his surprise, the blade he had seen was not being wielded by anyone. Instead it stuck through a piece of paper at the top of his wooden throne. _About time, _Rosto thought. He did not need to read the challenge to know what it was. As he glanced at the paper he learned that his challenger would be in his court that very evening. He felt little emotion about this development, except perhaps relief. He had been searching for this man for weeks, and was more than ready to deal with him. He turned back towards the street to return to the boarding house. His challenger had shown how fond he was of using people against the Rogue - it didn't seem wise to leave an opening during the very day of the challenge. It would be hours until he could wake everyone without risking bodily harm, so he sat in his room taking occasional passes around the house and unnecessarily sharpening a glittering blade.

* * *

Beka awoke to a glorious smell. Someone had been to get breakfast already this morning. She heard a slight metallic sound as the lock clicked open from the outside. "Why do I even bother?" she muttered.

"Because, fortunately for you..." came a familiar voice "I surpass most in my profession."

Rosto dropped his peace offering on her desk. "Did you sleep well, puppy?" he asked watching her reaction carefully.

"Yes, of course. You?"

"A lovely evening, now I suggest you get up. Aniki and Kora will be here soon," Rosto told her before sauntering back to his own rooms ... locking the door behind him.

_Now he's just showing off._..

She yawned as she got up and began to change quickly, not wanting to get caught unaware when Rosto snuck back in. It was too early. She had not really slept well and had a vague recollection of an unsettling dream involving the dancing dove. The details were lost to her though, and she didn't care to remember them anyway.

Suddenly Beka heard a loud commotion from the direction of Kora's room. _Looby,_ she thought with a smile. By the time Rosto had picked the lock again she was finishingup tying her braid, weaving the spikes in carefully. Aniki and Kora were with him this time and they smelled faintly of smoke.

"You could just knock," Aniki suggested as Rosto pushed the door open. "Beka, at least, doesn't throw fire when startled.

"This way is faster" Rosto replied, shrugging nonchalantly, but he just couldn't keep that smug look out of his eyes. It was too early to argue. Breakfast was delicious and Rosto seemed to be in an unusually good mood.

"Oh, what is it," Beka finally snaps as he begins an overblown soliloquy on the pleasantness of the morning. "You are never this energetic in the morning."

"Our friend is out of hiding."

"Officially?" Aniki asks, suddenly fully awake.

Rosto hands her the note and Beka's face pales considerably. "This is good news, Beka," Rosto reminds her. "We have been looking for weeks, now it will be finished by sunrise tomorrow." She nods. It was true, of course, but breathing had become considerably more difficult for her.

Breakfast ended on a more serious note than it had begun on. Kora disappears, muttering something about finishing charms and gathering supplies. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," Rosto says lightheartedly. Aniki also leaves, heading to the Dove to make sure no tricks would give the challenger an advantage that night. Rosto stays behind and helps Beka clean up. "Don't be so glum, Puppy."

"I'm not being, glum. I'm just concerned."

"Concerned for me, Beka?" he cries in mock humility. "I didn't know you cared."

"Be serious Rosto... this is not a game!" She turns away in frustration.

A crash forces her to glance back. The challenger's blade vibrates violently, now embedded into her wall. "I have done this before, Beka." He says quietly, the calmness of his voice clashing with the violence of the throw. "And I'm still alive. I know exactly what this is. And of course I am in a good mood, I stand a much better chance in the open then I do against intrigues!"

Beka colors, feeling foolish. She crosses the room to sit next to Rosto. There is silence for a few moments, words seeming superfluous.

"Please be careful." It is an unnecessary request and she knows it. But she could think of nothing else.

Rosto touches her cheek, tracing her jaw line slowly with one hand. His hands are cool but heat radiates from where he touches her. Beka knows what is coming and tenses defensively. Rosto leans forward, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss. This one is different, somehow. It's not flirtatious or triumphant, sneaky or teasing. It is simple, or perhaps more accurately it simply is. It feels perfect, of course, sarden spintry. She was supposed to punch him, but he faces a challenger not 12 hours from now; she couldn't very well break his nose right before he fights for his life. _That sounds reasonable, right?_ She asks herself as he pulls away.

"I love you, Rebakah Cooper."

Beka's heart races, her stomach knots, and muscles clench begging to flee. Fear, excitement and anxiety battle for supremacy. She is angry, no that isn't quite right... she is thrilled, that's not right either. Her mind races and she opens her mouth to speak. She has to tell him she is a Dog. Or something. She has to tell him something.

"Please don't Beka," he whispers. "I just need you to know that today, just in case."

She closes her mouth, still not entirely certain what she had planned on saying anyway. _Why does this sound like goodbye, _Beka thinks distractedly.

"You shouldn't be there, Love."

Her heart races again at the name that now seems dangerously serious.

"I have to be there." Her voice is calm, despite confused emotions.

"You won't be able to do anything, there are no interruptions of any kind permitted, and if I lose it will get messy."

"I will be there," She repeats stubbornly.

"It could be chaos, Aniki would probably issue her own challenge immediately. This game he as been playing is not only cowardly but breaks the Rogue's own law." He laughed at Beka's skeptical look. "Yes Beka, that really is important even to those of us with no honor. Going after friends and family, using intrigues like this ...Let's just say if he wins people are going to get rowdy. If he has his own supporters there could be a civil war in that hall by the time the night is over." Beka's look was concerned now. "He would lose either way,." Rosto continues quickly at her look. "The only question is if he survives an hour or a full day."

He was smiling but Beka just looked uneasy. "Why are you talking like this?"

"I don't plan on losing, Beka, but this is how it works. Someday someone faster or stronger will beat me. I can't afford to forget that. And if he does kill me tonight is it so wrong to enjoy the fact that he will still lose!"

His smile dropped away and he looked serious for a moment. "To be honest, Beka, If I leave that hall, it will be with blood on my hands. I don't want you to see it either way."

"Rogues' challenges have immunity from the kings law," She responds quickly. "I won't hobble you..."

"That's not why, Beka, you know that."

She still doesn't move, but her eyes grow cold and determined. She looks directly at him, "Could you choose to not be there if the fight was mine?"

Rosto sighs, "You and Kora should stay off to the side." Beka attempts to interrupt but Rosto elaborates "to watch the crowd, Beka. I need someone to make sure nothing is happening that I can't see."

She nods, "That I can do."


	10. Chapter 10

Word spread quickly in the court of the Rogue and the hall was busier than it had been in months. Challenges were always a spectacle. Dissidents come to see the downfall of their enemies, allies make sure they have chosen the right side. The latter were more common of late. Rosto enjoyed his power, certainly, but he also did not forget his responsibilities as previous Rogue's had. Not to mention he was the best knife fighter in the memory of any rusher around. So many just came for the show. Knives could be nearly as deadly in an unpracticed hand as in a master's, so Rosto could not just be good with a blade himself; he had to be fast enough to prevent an unpredictable novice's blows as easily as a stab for a predictable target. Unfortunately for the hot-blooded rushers who most often challenged him, Rosto was that fast. A good number of challengers had even changed their mind and bolted once faced with the Rogue one-on-one. Rosto let them go with a laugh, but it was well understood that they would not survive being seen in court again. Volatile cowards were of little use anyway, and 'reformed challengers' deserted the city within hours.

This was going to be different, and Rosto was not the only one who knew it. Surviving for a month with Rosto the Piper, his entire court and the Dogs looking for you was a unique feat, and rushers came from far and wide to see what sort of a man could accomplish it.

Rosto and Aniki looked regal on the dais tonight while Beka and Kora had resigned themselves to a nearby table positioned so that they could see more easily than be seen.

Finally a hush moved through the crowd as the guest of honor made his appearance. His hair was dark now and she wondered if he had changed it to frame Rosto or later to hide from him. He was alone, so far as Beka could tell. Beka flushed with anger as she watched him and wondered briefly what would happen if she just launched herself at the man before he even made his challenge. It wouldn't be good. She knew that she was just angry with the man that had tried to kill her; but it would look like she was protecting Rosto.

Everyone fell silent, everyone except Rosto, Aniki and the small group that surrounded them. These continued to converse as if they had not noticed anything out of the ordinary. Gradually the crowd began to murmur again though every eye followed the challenger. Beka smiled slowly in admiration. Rosto and Aniki were going to force the challenger to request an audience, despite the fact that everyone in the room knew why he was there. The man looked irritated, and approached the dais haughtily. "I, Flain, challenge Rosto the Piper for the right to this throne." He had put one foot on the dais. Aniki glanced down at the man condescendingly. "Do you have no idea how this court works?" She scoffed loudly. _Never hurts to question challengers' qualifications right from the start, _Rosto thought, smiling to himself. Aniki continued in a patronizing voice. "Official court business is not conducted without requesting an audience of the Rogue, and _no one _steps on the dais without permission." The challenger took one step back and she smiled, feigning compassion. "You are new; we will overlook your blunder."

Beka had to give the man credit. He remained utterly calm with the exception of one tell. One hand clenched tightly, aching to be done with the formalities. Rosto and Aniki were ready to react if needed, but he wouldn't attack yet. He would not want to leave any doubt that he had won a fair fight. "It is cowardly to hide behind such things," Flain growled. His voice dripped with venom as he requested his audience.

Rosto laughed, "What gall you have, to call me a coward after taunting me from hiding for a month."

With the eerie calm with which he had told Beka she was more useful dead, he repeated his challenge. Rosto finally stood. "You may not know this," he emphasized, "but any injury to an outside party during a challenge will void the exclusivity of the fight." Rosto smiled, it's chill made Beka shiver. "I will not stop my rushers from taking their vengeance if you kill other members of my Court."

At that comment the crowded rushers backed a few steps further from the combatants. A good view was one thing but most did not want to join this fight.

"They always said a foreigner could not hold this throne. Now that they are used to the idea, it's time for a Rogue that doesn't fraternize with Dogs," he spat loudly.

Rosto ignored the bluster. This was part of the game, appeal to the court to reduce the chances of an immediate coup should he win. Rosto did not have to play that game, he was a good Rogue and most of the court was content with his leadership. The challenger was a coward, everyone could see that. For a moment he almost felt sorry for him. So much planning, scheming and he didn't even understand the Rogue's most basic Law. This, Flain, might be able to kill Rosto, but even if he did...he could never win. He wouldn't last the night.

Rosto removed a sheathed blade from his belt, holding it out for Flain to see. "You gave this to a friend of mine, do you remember?"

The challenger was armed now too and both were watching the other intently. Flain charged, it looked offensive but he kept his hands close. Rosto threw the empty sheath at his attacker as he stepped sideways and forward. Closing the distance faster than Flain had anticipated, Rosto knocked the approaching blade outwards and punched Flain in the throat. The challenger dropped but he took Rosto with him with a strike to the knee.

The two fighters traded blows at an astonishing pace, with flashes of red appearing on their clothing with each near miss. The momentum slowed briefly as both fighters became trapped in the other's grip, each trying to create the advantage. Suddenly Rosto dropped his blade. As Flain moved to protect himself from the perceived threat Rosto was able to shift the momentum in his favor. A sudden strike to a defensive forearm forced the challenger's own blade back into his chest. It wasn't very deep, and with a cry of pain Flain rebounded before Rosto could pull out another weapon. He pelted Rosto with a series of blows which Rosto blocked with forearms alone now. Arm sheaths provided some protection but Beka winced. Locking up his attacker's knife-wielding arm Rosto briefly lost track of the other until a punch in the shoulder alerted him that Flain had reached one of his throwing knives. With teeth gritted in pain Rosto twisted the hand he had trapped and pushed Flain across the room. The man stayed down cradling his wrist, which Rosto suspected was badly broken. He couldn't worry about his opponents wounds just yet, Rosto had other concerns in the few moments of relief he had so preciously earned. He glanced down as the blood flowed freely from his shoulder.

There was muttering in the crowd. No challenger had ever lasted this long and Rosto did not look quite as invincible as he had mere moments earlier. Beka had stopped breathing, stopped moving, was frozen in place. Then, she felt the irresistible urge to leap into the circle herself. She was pulling forward without realizing it. Kora's vise-like grip held her in place. "I know, Beka... But you can't do anything. You know that...he told you that."

With some distance now separating the injured fighters, Rosto risks a glance towards where Beka is sitting. Well, half-sitting, half-standing, trying distractedly to pull herself from Kora's grip. As his piercing eyes find hers she seems to remember herself. She stops fighting Kora, but neither woman sits.

Rosto knows he will soon become lightheaded. He could already feel weakness in his muscles and fogginess in his mind as his body struggles to cope with the wound. Without wrapping the wound he calculates he has only a minute or possibly two before his strength and reaction times become severely impaired by the blood loss. _This has to end now,_ Rosto thinks, _or I die right here, tonight_. A small voice in the back of his mind asks insistently: _Would she mourn for me... cry for me?_ He stiffens, glancing towards Beka once more; _she will not watch me die._ He draws his collar knife as Flain recovers once more to charge furiously. Beka cringes as she watches Rosto backing towards the wall. _The wound must be affecting him already if he is losing so much ground, so quickly. _He continues to block the fury of blows raining down, but Beka knows the desperate defense will not hold out. Rosto is pinned against a wall. Kora's grip on Beka's arm tightens and both realize they are watching the end of Rosto the Piper. _This isn't possible. _Beka thinks_._ The Dog knows that this fight is over, they had been evenly matched but Rosto is weakening with every beat of his heart. Beka's mind screams for her to do something. _This is wrong, how can I just stand here __and watch him be killed?_ The Dog begins to plan for the chaos that will envelop the lower city with a man like Flain in charge. She should be monitoring the crowd to determine the likelihood of a brawl. But she can't look away, her mind still protests: _Rosto always gets up._

Flain attacks with a vicious lower thrust and Rosto springs to one side with an agility the challenger did not think the Rogue was still capable of. Flain's jab drives the blade deep into the wood of the wall. In the split-second that the blade is immobilized, Rosto has him. With two well-aimed strikes it is over: kidney, throat. Unconsciousness is rapid, death will follow in minutes.

"And that," Rosto cries to his Court triumphantly, "concludes your entertainment for the evening." Raucous laughter fills the hall and Beka closes her eyes in relief; leaning back against the table as she struggles to control her pounding heart. _Rosto always gets up._

Rosto returned to the dais as rushers cleaned up the hall. Aniki hastily tied a bandage around the worst wound, Kora's healing charms keeping him upright for the moment. Beka felt sick. She was no stranger to violence, but the Dogs primary weapons were designed to incapacitate, not kill, unless absolutely necessary. She knew that if it hadn't been the challenger lying dead on the floor, it would have been Rosto. Still, she struggled to settle her stomach. She turned her focus to Rosto instead. Kora still held her arm. "Kora, we have to get him out of here."

"Not yet. Leaving immediately after a challenge shows weakness, he can't open himself up to another right now." She continued rapidly, "Follow him out when he leaves, I've left supplies in his room. Aniki and I will follow when we are sure that all is well here."

Aniki had helped Rosto into a dark colored tunic, so now the bandage was hidden from obvious view. He lounged on the dais easily, looking for all the world like it was just another night. He glanced in Beka's direction once, smiling a half-smile that was supposed to be reassuring. It wasn't reassuring; she had seen the wound and was close enough to see he swayed slightly when he stood. After a while he sauntered in her direction. He put his arm around her flirtatiously. At least, that's how it looked, but he leaned heavily. He flirted more loudly than usual and she responded venomously as always. She told him that just because Rogues' challenges were immune, it didn't mean she wouldn't come up with a reason to hobble him one day.

"You'll have to catch me first," he teased, making a sudden break for the door. _Well, he's certainly not going for the subtle exit. _Beka sprinted after him glaring icily at anyone that got in her way. Once inside and safe from prying eyes he leaned against the wall of the boarding house wearily. He was running on adrenaline alone and his hands shook as he tried to stop the bleeding which had intensified during the short run. As Beka entered she found him that way, one hand pressing his shoulder tightly. "We have to stop meeting like this..." he murmured slowly. As she approached he crumpled, sliding down the wall.


	11. Chapter 11

"Rosto, come on, we have to get to your room." Putting his good arm around her she helped him stand and half carried him to his room.

As she helped Rosto onto the bed, she leaned him against the wall to keep his shoulder raised. "About time you got me into bed," he said, now slurring his words so badly she could barely understand them. Still, she hoped the teasing meant things weren't as bad as they seemed.

"That chase you just staged was a terrible idea, Rosto," she chided.

He paused, it was taking him a while to process her words. "Probably," he still spoke slowly. "I have an open wound. You still didn't catch me."

"I wasn't try..." Beka sighed. "Never mind, Hold the bandage down," she instructed as she cut away the dark tunic on top and the blood stained one underneath. She didn't think, just allowed her training to take over. Aniki's bandage had long since soaked through, but Beka knew better than to move it. Placing the fresh bandage on top she warned him, "This is going to hurt."

"Then I guess you'll..." He stopped mid sentence, groaning as she pressed the bandage down and wrapped it firmly into place.

Dark spots filled his vision and her face blurred in front of him. Rosto was pale normally, now he was deathly white.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered "but I have to stop the bleeding." His eyes were half-open, but his head had fallen back and she didn't think he could hear her.

Kora had left water next to the bed; she thought of everything. He needed fluids but Beka didn't think he was aware enough to drink.

Rosto was still for a few minutes fighting the nausea and feeling very much like he was loosing his balance despite his seated position. Beka placed cool hands on the sides of his neck and the slight chill seemed to subdue the nausea. She could feel his heart racing, attempting to compensate for the blood loss.

"...have to kiss it... better" he finally finished through clenched teeth.

To Rosto's surprise he felt a warm sensation against his cool skin, right next to the bandage wrappings. Without opening his eyes he smiled.

"Do you think you can drink this, just a small amount?" He nodded, opening his eyes to take the water from her. Things looked strange to him. Like the color of the room was slightly off. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what was different, but the feeling was unsettling.

The shoulder wound was by far the most dangerous, but he was covered with wounds of varying severities. She cleaned each one and covered them. Most of them were too small to be any real danger but cleaning them made Beka feel like she was doing something productive. Then she returned to his shoulder, which had soaked through another set of bandages. _Why isn't the bleeding slowing down? _Beka worried.

Rosto watched her as she worked with a mildly astonished look on his face. She glared at him after a while, "why do you keep staring like that, did you think I was gunna send you to the cages or somat?" He didn't answer, still watching her intently. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears and it gave them a warmth that he had never seen before.

"I have to stop the bleeding, Rosto," she repeated. Rosto nodded tersely. She replaced the outer bandages, this time pressing down with a firm pressure instead of trying to tie it. With a gasp Rosto cried out sharply before clenching his jaw and cutting off the sound abruptly. For a moment Rosto's muscles remained tense as Beka pressed the bandage tightly to his injury but eventually his body relaxed as he lost consciousness. Beka wasn't sure if she should be concerned or relieved. Despite the fact that the pressure on his wound was necessary to save his life, causing him so much pain was almost unbearable. At least this way he wasn't in pain.

For a long time Beka stared blankly, trying to think of nothing at all. Simply holding the bandage tight and waiting to see if the bleeding would stop or Rosto would wake. She didn't want to think. She didn't want to close her eyes and see the blood of the dead challenger soaking the floor. She couldn't watch Rosto sinking down the wall of the boarding house and listen to him moan in pain. It all played in a loop in her head. Not thinking did not protect her. She tried to remember what the chances were of fatal bleeding from this kind of wound. Worse if it hit an artery, she remembered that, but she had no idea if that were the case here. She didn't want to remember that she had seen men die from wounds that looked far less severe than what she was seeing. And Rosto did not have a healer.

The bleeding finally slowed but Rosto didn't wake. Beka checked his pulse frequently, fearing that the bleeding would stop only when his heart gave out. His heart raced, shallow and uneven, like it could fail at any moment. She should call a healer. He had told her not to but surely there was someone that Rosto trusted to see him in this condition. She stood up, determined to get help, but Rosto grabbed her hand. He was awake again, mostly.

"Don't, please."

"Rosto, you need help, I can't just sit here!"

"Can't, Beka." He interrupts, "If it gets out... cowards will come out of the woodwork." He shook his head. "I wouldn't stand a chance." So Beka waited, holding the bandage tight as Rosto teetered in and out of consciousness.

* * *

The Dove pulsed with a manic sort of energy. This happened sometimes after a challenge when alcohol flowed freely and the fight injected adrenaline into the onlookers. Passions soared and minor skirmishes broke out over the most ridiculous of things. Aniki and Kora were visibly enjoying themselves dancing and drinking with the best of them. They knew that people would look to them to set the mood for the evening. If they looked worried it meant more than a bad party. It meant the next few days and weeks were going to be rough for Rosto. It was not honorable to challenge a Rogue in the aftermath of another challenge but it had happened before. Only the most desperate would try that route, simply because starting your career as a known coward shortened your life expectancy dramatically. But not all Rogues were killed by official challenges. If the Rogue is a particularly good fighter, assassination attempts became more common. That was what Flain had attempted first. After the dogs killed Rosto, he had hoped that fighting for an empty throne would be easier than fighting Rosto himself.

So Aniki and Kora played their part and did their best to forget that Rosto might be fighting for his life at this very moment.

Finally the mania broke and people started to stumble back to their rooms or out into the night. Kora and Aniki left the dove through different exits making their way back to their old lodgings. When they arrived they saw a pool of blood on the floor and against the wall of the entryway, which stood out brightly even in the dim light. It looked like Rosto had collapsed there against the wall. The boarding house was silent as they walked toward the cracked door of Rosto's room.

Rosto was unconscious on the bed, and Beka sat next to him, looking somewhat lost, his blood still covering her hands. Kora hurried to Rosto's side.

"I think it's slowed, but I didn't clean the shoulder yet. There was too much blood." Beka mumbled not really looking at Kora, or anything else.

Kora nodded. "You were right not to risk it." Beka still didn't move. "Beka?" Kora called gently.

"Get up, Beka." Aniki ordered and Beka's eyes snapped back into focus as she stood. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

They helped her wash the blood from her hands and arms then gathered the linens. Kora insisted that Beka and Aniki get a few hours of sleep while she waited up with Rosto. Beka returned to her room in a daze. Pulling out her braid she brushed her hair out of habit before sitting down on the bed. She stared at nothing for a few moments before it became obvious that even trying to sleep was a waste of time. She got up and returned to Rosto's room. Kora smiled knowingly at her, she hadn't really expected Beka to stay away for long. Kora stayed for about an hour before Beka sent her off to sleep instead. She and Aniki were going to need their wits about them to keep the Dove running smoothly.

Rosto was still pale, but Beka thought he didn't look quite as white as he had just a few hours ago. She placed a hand on his neck. His skin was cold and his pulse still raced, but was it steadier, less erratic than before? Maybe she was fooling herself. Her mind raced, images still flooding her eyes when she closed them. She saw the look on Rosto's face as the knife pierced his shoulder, watched him sway on the dais. She heard the cracking of the challengers hand and watched Rosto leaning against the wall clutching his wound. And she watched him fall; again and again. Letting her head drop into her hands on the edge of the bed she felt tears threaten to come as the numbness shattered around her.

She felt a slight pressure as Rosto pushed her hair behind her ear. He was awake, had he seen? She hastily repaired her walls before looking up. "It looks nice this way," he murmured, his hand touching loosened hair.

"How do you feel?"

"I love you, how do you feel?" He said smirking.

_Better apparently, _Beka sighed. "I meant..."

"I know what you meant," He said.

"Do you need anything, can you drink some more?" Beka asked.

"Sure," Rosto replied distractedly.

He drank a little, and it did seem to help.

Without a word she laid down next to him, carefully avoiding the neat bandages. The beating of his heart calmed her own. Rosto stayed very still, trying not to spook her. After she settled, he lowered his good arm around her then opened his mouth to speak.

"Not a word." She interrupted. So he said nothing.


	12. Chapter 12

Rosto's limbs felt swollen and heavy, he wasn't certain he could stand even if he wanted to. Still, he was lying next to Beka, and was reasonably certain that neither one of them was dying at the moment. A marked improvement. Rosto honored Beka's wish for silence, he didn't think he had the energy left to argue with her tonight anyway. Besides, the moment she spoke it would shatter the beautiful delusion he was indulging in at the moment.

They sat that way for some time while the streets grew quieter and the night darker. Beka was still but her mind raced. _Never a rusher... I shouldn't be here... never a rusher. _Her mantra repeated over and over again, but her treasonous body would not move. She was so used to being self-sufficient, but now suddenly she found that she desperately needed to know that Rosto's heart was still beating. "Are you awake?" Beka asked, finally breaking her own silence.

"Yes."

"How do you fee..." she stopped short, tensing up again. "Is your shoulder any better?" she amended.

"Considering there's a hole in it? That one is probably going to take longer than a few hours." He could feel the rigidity in her posture, a physical reminder of her apprehension. Irritation crept into his voice as he continued, "You don't have to be afraid of me, Beka. I wont force this."

"I'm not afraid of you!" Beka cried, spurred to her feet by anger.

Rosto winced at her sudden movement and nodded, too tired for anything else. "I know," he sighed.

The inertia that had held her next to him was broken and Beka backed away. "I'm sorry, but I can't. Never a rusher."

"What _are_ you afraid of?"

_He's bad for you. _

"I'm not..."

"Do you really think that I would hurt you, that I could? Beka, I would sooner-"

"I'm a Dog."

_Bad for you..._

"And I'm the Rogue. How many times have we worked together without that interfering in the slightest?" His head dropped back in frustration, he had no energy. "Beka..." He starts, watching helplessly as she backed closer to the door. "Why don't you get some sleep, Love? We don't have to talk about this..." He continues, voice quiet with resignation.

She took her opportunity and ran.

* * *

Back in her room, Beka paced angrily. Her stomach was knotted and she wanted to move, to run, to fight, to do something. _Of course, I'm not afraid of him._ The pacing accelerated. Rusher's could not be trusted. Rosto is a rusher, even if he is a good man.

_Why can't he just leave me alone..._

_He almost did._

The clenching in her stomach intensified at the thought. That wasn't anger, it was fear. she stopped cold. _He almost did._ She watched him fall again, and in her mind he did not get up. Her over-active imagination conjured images of the challengers last strike, but this time Rosto isn't fast enough. This time the blade finds its mark and pins its victim to the wooden door. Rosto looks up at her, in his eyes an apology and a question that will never again be spoken. _What were you afraid of? _The challenger smirks at her as he pulls the blade free, letting Rosto collapse onto the ground. This time it is Rosto's blood that covers the floor, his eyes that stare up at her. His captivating eyes that no longer sparkle, no longer tease, no longer see her at all. He was just a rusher, he couldn't be trusted. She was a Dog.

What was one Rogue, even a good Rogue? It meant a different face to collect the Happy Bag from, a different smirk trying to outwit her. It meant no more teasing at breakfast. No more Gillyflowers at midwinter.

_What are you afraid of?_

_Why does he keep asking me that? I am not afraid of him. He's a rusher, I can take any rusher. I can take a whole tavern full of rushers with one arm hobbled._

_So, what are you afraid of?_

_This one might be different._

Her mind reeled.

He challenged her. Physically when they sparred, mentally as they talked. He forced her to face her deepest held fears and admit that maybe not all rushers were bad. Could he really be a good man?

In a split second she realized it had nothing to do with the rusher, she was afraid of the man. She ran back down the stairs towards Rosto's room but stopped short at the door. She turned around, she couldn't go back into that room. She couldn't leave an opening, when you leave an opening you get hurt.

* * *

Rosto couldn't sleep.

He was mesmerized by the sound of pacing from the room above his. The pacing continued for a moment then stopped. He sighed, At least one of them would get some sleep, it certainly wouldn't be him. Everything was broken now. He had gone too far, spoken too clearly and now Beka was unable to ignore the issue any longer. It was a risky gamble; he lost. He had thought he could convince her that he would not hurt her, but he had once again underestimated the depths of her conviction: _Never a rusher._

There was a time when he had toyed with the idea of leaving the Court. It would have been a nearly impossible task, Rogues do not quietly retire, but he had done the nearly-impossible before. That was before he knew about her mother. And he realized that - against all logic - she was avoiding rushers because she did not want to be like her mother. She thought they would hurt her. He almost smiled at the thought. Rosto was the best fighter in the Court and he knew without a doubt that even if he had wanted to hurt her - he would probably be the one to end up in a ditch somewhere.

And then there was Holborn. Rosto fumed at the name. _Why Holborn?_ He hadn't really minded the man at first. Sure he hated that Beka had once again thrown herself into another's arms, but he wasn't a bad sort of cove. Their engagement had not been a good night for Rosto. After facing such resistance himself Rosto could not believe that she was suddenly ready for a long term commitment, to Holborn of all people. He still wasn't a bad sort of cove, however much Rosto wanted to hate him. Things went downhill from there though. He remembered very well the nights he had visited the boarding house and heard the yelling. It made him crazy.

One evening after a particularly bad night he had waited outside the boarding house as a (somewhat drunk) Holborn stalked out, nearly running into the Rogue as he emerged from the shadows. "Evening Holborn, how's Beka this evening?" Holborn muttered something unintelligible and Rosto continued "I don't know if you've noticed but she does not seem happy lately. That bothers me. Do you think there is something I could do about that?" Holborn got the idea and Rosto watched Beka carefully after that, looking for any sign of an injury that couldn't be accounted for by her watch. He was thankful he never saw one - not just for Beka's sake but for his own. Beka would never have forgiven him for what he would have done had the cove laid a hand on her. Though who knows, maybe Beka would have beaten him to it. She was not a mot that would take that. At least he didn't think she was. Either way, that was the final blow against the nagging voice in his head that asked if his Court was a worthwhile trade for Beka. That was when he realized beyond any doubt that 'never a rusher' was an excuse. Even if he managed to leave the court behind, it would not solve the problem. It wasn't his to solve.

Holborn's death had changed Beka dramatically. Whether Rosto liked it or not she had wrapped her life around his and she didn't know what to do when he got himself killed. Rosto worried at first that Beka would suspect he had been involved but the truth had come out pretty clearly - Holborn had near killed himself and that was the end of it. The following weeks were difficult and Rosto had taken to quietly checking in on Beka during her watches. Goodwin kept close too, both were concerned that she would do something reckless and bury herself with Holborn. She didn't though and eventually the shadow that Beka Cooper had become came back to life. He began to tease her again, and occasionally she would smile.

A noise from upstairs diverted his attention from the memories. He heard her door, and footsteps on the stairs then pacing outside his door. But she didn't enter.


	13. Chapter 13

_**AN 11-13-2013: If you have read this story before you will notice the last chapter (now lucky number 13) is not much different than the pre update chapter 12. That's because the length of the story is about 40% longer due to added scenes almost every other chapter rather than another chapter at the end!**_

_**Hope you enjoy the new and improved story.**_

* * *

"You know I can hear you pacing out there, Puppy?" came a quiet, infuriating voice from inside Rosto's room.

She opened the door. He was still leaning against the wall where she had left him. The moonlight excentuated the pallor of his skin and he looked spent.

"I don't wan't you to die" she burst out. It wasn't exactly what she had wanted to say, but it was true.

Rosto looked perplexed. "I always knew I could charm you into not actively seeking my death..."

She sat down next to him again. She could feel his gaze on her but couldn't quite bring herself to look up into his eyes. If she saw his eyes she would see the longing and the tenderness that didn't belong in a rusher's eyes. He slowly wiped her cheeks with one hand. Beka flushed, she wasn't supposed to be like this.

"Why are you crying, Beka? Everything's alright now."

She was silent for a moment before suddenly everything seemed to try to come out at once. "I keep seeing you in my head, Rosto, it won't stop. He's killing you in my head over and over and I keep thinking that you always have to get up, because you're Rosto. But you're the Rogue, and you don't get up, the Rogue dies all the time..."

"Beka, take a breath," Rosto interrupts "I'm going to kiss you now." And he did. He couldn't help himself, she looked so afraid. _Would she mourn for me, weep for me? _He remembered the question that had haunted him during the challenge. He thought it would make him happy - knowing that she would mourn for him - but now he realized he just wanted to make her smile again. Or hit him, or yell at him, something normal. This kiss was gentle, like the one before it, but there was a desperation hidden there. A certainty that she would run away again as soon as the emotion of this moment faded.

And she did; she pulled away, her head spinning. _Get your hands up, Beka, Don't leave an opening, _she thought.

Rosto wiped fresh tears from her face, "I'm here, Beka." He leaned his forehead against her's but did not try to kiss her again. "I'm here as long as the choice is mine to make."

"Dogs die all the time too, Beka," He continues softly. "Don't you realize I understand perfectly? Every day you go out and I know that I may never see you again. So I kiss you when I can and tell you that I love you even though you don't want to hear it. I laugh and I tease and I let you pretend that you believe that it's all a game. But it's not a game, Beka, you must know that by now."

"That's why we have to keep our distance." she said firmly. "It's just a matter of time before one of us doesn't come home. It's safer- "

"Has distance protected you, Beka?" He asked, resignation in his voice. The mask was gone, shattered, and there was no point trying to piece it together again. "When I was sitting in that warehouse, I held you in my arms and I could feel you slipping away from me. I wanted nothing more in all the world than to take your place. So make up whatever reason you like, but never tell me that it's safer this way. A piece of me was missing when I thought you were gone and it would have killed me just as thoroughly as the blade in my own chest."

"I know." Beka replied so softly he strained to hear it. She was remembering Rosto backing towards the wall, as she realized she was about to watch him die. She couldn't lose anyone else, couldn't lose him. "I do know Rosto, I won't lie to you anymore. But it wouldn't work, it couldn't work."

His eyes were stern now. "You must truly believe that I am a horrible man, to be so convinced of that. What is it that you think I do all day, run around the city leaving a trail of blood in my wake? We want mostly the same thing; to keep control of the rats and to protect this city and it's people."

"I don't think you're a horrible man..."

He laughed, "and I love you, Beka, I'll keep telling you that until the day I die."

"Me too." she breathed.

He looked at her sharply. She wasn't looking at him, just pressed her face into his good shoulder.

He raised her face to his, dark eyes searching. "Beka, say it."

"Me too." she mumbled softer still.

"No, I need to hear you say it."

She paused, and Rosto could see the fear in her eyes. _She can't say it, _he thought.

"I think I love you too." she whispered.

He pulled her close to kiss her again, she could feel him smiling. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" he mumbled happily.

Beka finally released the tension she had been holding in every muscle. She wasn't going to run away now, she had lost that ability a long time ago, and she was only now realizing it. She had no illusions, this was not going to be easy. Still, instead of feeling trapped she felt more free than she ever had. Her walls had been crumbling, and now she stopped trying so desperately to build her prison up again.

Finally, she smiled too. "You know, Rosto, this doesn't mean I'm going to stop trying to punch you. I'm still no doxie."

"No, my Queen, never."

* * *

The ground was wet, it had been raining off and on for days in the lower city. Just enough rain to make the ground slick, but not enough to keep the rats indoors and out of trouble. Beka raced around another corner, slowing down just enough to avoid slamming herself into the wall of a building. He was fast, but she was mad. She would catch him, if she had to run all night. She would catch him, she would hobble him and she would see to it that he faced the King's justice. He would hang for this.

Rosto knew Beka was nearby, but he was faster, he always had been. They both knew the area so neither had the advantage, but Rosto was not above barging into some boarding house and taking the steps three at a time to reach the roof. From here he could see what was going on much better. He could hear Beka racing through the streets below and got a general idea where she was before dropping back to street level. He would not have guessed that they would be in this position now. It had only been a matter of weeks since Rosto had finally convinced Beka that their worlds were not so different after all. She had not been truly convinced, but they had nearly lost each other and she couldn't stand not knowing if it could have worked. They both had jobs to do though, so here they were, racing through the streets with a significant, shall we say, difference of opinion on the merits of the Kings law.

Beka knew she was gaining on him, she saw flash of gold on the roofline and smiled. That detour to the roof was going to cost him dearly. She weaved through the alleys. She knew where her prey was going, he was heading toward a gambling den which was known for hiding those who faced the King's justice, if he made it there first he would disappear and who knows if she would ever find him again. Finally, with a short cut through a little known alley she found herself exactly where she wanted to be. She knew he had not passed yet. Sinking into the shadows she waited as the sound of running approached. As the figure approached she brought her baton to the ready and downed her target as he darted by. Her hobbles were out in moments. She had her prey.

"You promised, Rosto." She growled. "Do you remember?" A figure dropped down from the roofline above her. He laughed easily, "Oh yes, my love, unfortunately I do remember." Rosto glanced down at the cowering figure at Beka's feet. "You are one lucky, cove," Rosto commented to the man, "See Beka and I have an arrangement of sorts. Something along the lines of finders keepers," he growled. "You'll hang regardless but the Kings Justice is ... cleaner than mine." The man whimpered up at the two imposing figures, he didn't feel lucky. Neither the King's justice or the Rogues would let him walk away from child-killing.

Blowing her whistle, Beka handed off her catch to a pair of on-duty dogs heading back for the kennel. "I asked you not to say that in front of Rats." Beka grumbled to Rosto as they turned toward home.

"What, _my love?_" He emphasized, grinning at her. "I wouldn't worry about it, he won't be telling anyone, he's got more pressing matters to think about. Besides, " he continued "everyone already knows. The dogs don't care as long as you keep bringing in my rats and my rats don't care as long as they want to...well, you know, live."

"Still," Beka responded "It's unprofessional!"

"Unprofessional..." Rosto mused for a moment. With a rapid movement he pushed her into a nearby alley and up against a wall. He smirked as he pressed close and resumed in a low growl, "what a wonderful idea."

"Rosto..." Beka chastized half-heartedly, but that was quickly cut off by his lips on hers.

She melted into his arms; most unprofessionally, she was sorry to admit. Wrapping her arms around his neck she kissed him back a smile on her lips.

Rosto pulled away, just far enough to mumble "That never gets old."

"What, kissing?" Beka asks.

"No, not getting punched."

She punched him lightly with a smirk.

"You wound my pride, my lady." He cried with a melodramatic clutching of his heart.

"Oh, I think it will recover somehow."

"I can think of a way or two," he suggests pushing her back against the wall. Leaning close he whispers in her ear, "how about doing this against the wall of the dove... during court."

Beka laughed openly. "Dream on, _your majesty."_ she teased, pushing him back towards the street. "Let's go, we have work to do."


End file.
